


Sweet as Pie

by LoveActuallyFan



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pushing Daisies, Apple Pie, Boromir is Digby, Car Accidents, Fluff and Smut, Food Kink, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, Humor, M/M, Majestic Eyebrows, Morbid, Morbid as fuck, No Incest, Pies, Plastic Wrap Kisses, Plush Moose, Porn With Plot, Pushing Daisies Elements, The Pie Hole, paramedics, piemaker!Thranduil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-19 22:05:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4762721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveActuallyFan/pseuds/LoveActuallyFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil is the waking and baking piemaker, fabulously blonde and incredibly snarky. Legolas is a young tourist who stumbles upon The Pie Hole and has an immediate connection with its owner. Through a twist of fate, the two blondes end up dependent on one another, in more ways than one. </p><p>A kooky, fluffy, Pushing Daisies inspired Thrandolas AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nice Eyebrows

**Author's Note:**

> ***sneaks in***
> 
> Hi! :) Here is my new AU. Thranduil is the piemaker, with all of Ned's abilities in waking the dead. But, instead of being cute and reserved, he is snarky and sarcastic as his defence mechanism. He hates being touched and interacting with customers, and prefers to be left alone in his kingdom - the kitchen in the back of The Pie Hole ;)
> 
> I would like to dedicate this chapter to ofplanet_earth, who helped me with the title. I had a truly awful one to begin with <3
> 
> If anyone recognises the reference to Love Actually, I will give you a virtual pie and a virtual hug!
> 
> **I really hope you enjoy it! x**

[](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/loveactuallyfan91/media/SAP%20Chapter%201_zpswzpt0z6i.jpg.html)

Olive was besotted. She had been since she’d started working at The Pie Hole, and the object of her affections still had not noticed that she was in love with him. Perhaps he had noticed, she hadn’t exactly been subtle, but he definitely made no attempts to return her affections. He was as closed off and icy as ever, even after her many attempts to start a relationship. Including one very misguided, ill-fated attempt at seduction on her part. In hindsight it probably hadn’t been a good idea to smother herself in whipped cream and lay on the serving counter after closing one night. No. That had not been clever.

Her one any only consolation had been that Thranduil had not shown the slightest interest in anyone, no matter how flirty or good-looking they had been. So Olive had resigned herself to being ‘just friends’ with her blonde god of a boss. Though being friends did not mean she could not stare wistfully at him at every opportunity.

It was just such an opportunity Olive was taking full advantage of as Thranduil kneaded pastry for a piecrust. She was leaning against the serving counter, one hand supporting her cheek as she stared, admiring the way his strong, lithe muscles rippled underneath his white t-shirt. He worked the pastry expertly, using the back of his hand to brush a particularly annoying piece of his long blonde hair out of his eyes. Olive sighed as she watched his heavy eyebrows knit together in concentration for the task, his blue eyes staring down at the brown lump he was massaging. God; how she wished to be that pastry, even just for one night.

It was a quiet, rainy afternoon at The Pie Hole. There was only one elderly customer seated in a corner booth enjoying his Banoffee pie. Other than his terribly awkward taste in pie, he was not the most demanding of customers, and Olive had little else to do but watch the piemaker prepare pastry.

The waitress smiled absently as Thranduil finished kneading and moved on to cutting out strips of raw pastry to cover the pies he had lined up next to him. The man was uncommonly beautiful, with his waist length white-gold blonde hair, piercing azure eyes and slightly pointed ears. He reminded Olive of an otherworldly being, perhaps a blonde angel, and she was utterly enthralled by his strong arms and large hands as he worked. His fluid movements, perfected from hours of pie making, were a beautiful hypnotic distraction for Olive. 

“You need any help back there?” Olive smiled, her large eyes trained hopelessly on the beautiful man. Thranduil looked up, not interrupting his movements, and gave the waitress a somewhat annoyed look. He preferred to be left alone when he was baking, and she knew that.

“I’m nearly done,” he said, nodding over towards a pile of black bags, “But those need to be taken out to the dumpster.”

Olive pursed her lips, raising an annoyed eyebrow at Thranduil. He only raised one of his own eyebrows and threw her a smirk. Scowling, the waitress slipped off of the counter and stalked back to the kitchen, snatching up a heavy trash bag.

“You know it’s pouring with rain, right?” she said, glancing out of the window at the deluge that was bucketing down.

“You’ll just have to be quick then, won’t you?” He knew that answering her question with another question would irk Olive. 

She heaved out an exasperated sigh, throwing one last glare at Thranduil, before she headed out, awkwardly wrangling with the trash bag that was nearly as large as she was. Thranduil smirked as he returned his full attention to finishing off the pies. He was a methodical perfectionist in everything he did, pie making in particular, and they had to look absolutely perfect before he placed them in the oven. 

Thranduil looked up from his work, quickly scanning the kitchen and the restaurant for anyone, before he reached down below the work bench and picked up a brown, rotten apple. It immediately sprung to life in his hand, transforming from a greyish-brown to a rosy red instantaneously. He felt the tell-tale burning tingle against his hand as he revived the fruit, and he smiled as he began to chop thin slices of garnish for one of the pies. It was as he was delicately placing the slices in a fastidious rose design that he heard the tinkling of the doorbell signal someone entering The Pie Hole. 

Legolas shook himself, sending tiny drops of water flying, as he entered the building that was shaped like a giant pie. He ran a hand through his hair, wiping at the water that clung to his braids. The downpour was so intense that, even in the quick dash from his beat-up car to The Pie Hole, he had become soaked. Despite being damp, Legolas smiled at the interior of the pie shop, he loved the cosy booths and the delicious smell of cooking pie that invaded his nose. It smelled like home. 

Legolas smiled and shrugged off the large backpack that was slug across his shoulder. He dragged the heavy bag over to a warm booth and sat down, peeling his soaked jacket off. He ran his fingers through his hair, making sure the tiny braids on the side of his head were not too worse for wear, before he picked up a discarded menu, scanning the delicious pictures hungrily. 

Thranduil sighed, Olive still had not returned from her adventure to the dumpster, and he loathed leaving customers unattended. He was nothing if not an efficient host. He looked out of a kitchen window, peering around, but could see no sign of the feisty waitress. Thranduil sighed long-sufferingly before he wiped his hands on the apron wrapped around his hips and entered the dining area. 

Legolas’ eyes were fixed to the menu in his hands and he was biting his bottom lip sweetly as he registered some one approach the booth. The figure stopped next to him, and he squinted at the menu. “How’s your apple pie? I’m quite-” Legolas looked up then, intending to judge the quality of the pie by the waiter’s reaction, but he stopped short, his voice jumping, “-picky,” he finished, his eyes wide. 

“My apple pie is immaculate.” 

Legolas’ mouth had fallen open slightly at the sight in front of his eyes. The tall blonde who was glaring at him was possibly the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on, and he made Legolas’ heartbeat immediately begin to pound erratically.

Thranduil raised a large, heavy eyebrow at the face of the young blonde man that sat in his pie shop. He looked odd; with his strange blonde hair neatly braided and his unusually shaped ears. Even his eyes were an extraordinary shade of blue; there was something uncanny about them, something mystical. Thranduil’s eyes widened at his own thoughts, he usually barely noticed his customers, content to be in his kitchen with his pies. 

“Nice eyebrows,” Legolas blurted, cursing his idiotic brain the moment the words had left his mouth. Thranduil pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at the young blonde. Legolas gulped, Thranduil’s icy eyes were glaring right into his soul, and they excited and terrified him in equal parts. He felt his stomach flip over and jump right into his throat. Usually he was quite smooth when he met someone he fancied, but Thranduil’s eyes had captured him so thoroughly that he could barely remember his own name.

“A slice of apple pie then?” Thranduil almost hissed, “à la mode?” Legolas nodded dumbly and the beautiful blonde man stalked away, disappearing behind the serving counter. 

Legolas had to remember to breathe as he sat, alone once more. His eyes darted around, scanning The Pie Hole. He seemed to be only one of two patrons. Thank god no one had witnessed his idiotic attempt at flirting - except the gorgeous blonde piemaker. He was fairly sure he’d blown it. Legolas sighed and strained forward in his seat, hoping to catch a glimpse of the blonde.

Thranduil was annoyed at having to slice a piece of pie and dollop a ball of ice cream next to it. Olive had still not returned from her, seemingly ill-fated, errand. He threw one last look out of the window, hoping to see her trudging back through the rain. When he saw no such thing, he sighed, grabbing the plate with the pie and the ice cream.

He paused as he passed a large, polished silver pot that hung from a hook on the wall closest to the serving counter. He frowned as he caught his reflection staring back at him, and he tilted his head, appraising his eyebrows. He shrugged at his own reflection; he supposed they were quite majestic. He then left the kitchen once more; Legolas’ apple pie in hand.

Legolas felt a dorky smile immediately spring to his lips as the blonde man rounded the corner, holding his pie. He tried to quash the excitement that sprung up in his chest, but he failed, and his eyes sparkled with every step closer the man took. Thranduil looked at the young blonde warily, scowling at his friendly expression. He didn’t like interacting with customers, today being no exception, and he tried to look as standoffish as possible. He set his mouth in a stern, straight line, and he furrowed his heavy brow. 

Legolas reached out for the plate as Thranduil began to put it down, the young blonde’s eagerness getting the better of him. He cursed himself once more as he brushed hands with the tall blonde man, and Thranduil visibly flinched at the touch.

“Sorry!” Legolas gasped immediately, sheepishly letting Thranduil place the plate in front of him. The piemaker had a strange look on his face as he set the plate down and looked into Legolas’ eyes. His hand burned where the young blonde’s skin had touched him. He could feel it, tingling and prickling. He never liked to touch anyone, his ability to wake the dead making him highly aware of what he came into contact with, and yet he had never experienced a touch, like the one he’d just had, with something that was alive. Usually the only electricity he felt was when he touched a rotten apple or a withered plum. 

Legolas looked up at the hesitating blonde who was staring at him oddly. He knew that he had one chance, and the time had come to get his act together. 

“I’m Legolas,” he said, cringing inwardly at how idiotic the words sounded, but grateful that another comment about the man’s beautiful eyebrows had not come gushing out of his mouth. His eyebrows were incredibly handsome though, and Legolas wondered absently how he managed to keep them so well groomed. 

Thranduil’s eyes widened, his hand still tingling, and before he could stop himself he’d said, “Thranduil,” in a soft voice.

Legolas beamed up at him, his blue eyes lighting up. Perhaps he hadn’t blown it after all?

“It’s pretty dead in here, do you want to sit?” Legolas smiled, motioning to the seat opposite him in the comfy booth. Thranduil’s eyes widened even further, his gaze glued to the beautiful blonde’s. The tingling in his hand had started to dissipate, leaving him with an odd feeling of loss, akin to what he felt when he brought something back to life. He was fascinated that the touch of this young blonde’s hand could make him feel such a thing.

Legolas raised his eyebrows a little as Thranduil just stood and stared at him. “Will you get in trouble with your boss?” Legolas asked, resigned to the fact that the gorgeous man was probably not interested and giving him an easy out from their awkward interaction.

Thranduil tilted his head, his eyes taking in every little detail of Legolas’ face as he said, “I am the boss.”

Legolas opened his mouth to say something, but nothing ever came to his mind, and he stared up at Thranduil like a demented goldfish. Legolas was grateful when Thranduil seemed to take pity on him, and slid into the seat opposite. He tried to smile casually at the beautiful blonde piemaker, but he feared he might have looked a little constipated. 

“Going somewhere?” Thranduil asked pointedly, throwing Legolas’ ragged old backpack a disapproving look. Thranduil looked even more gorgeous up close, and it made Legolas nervous. 

“Passing through, actually,” Legolas was amazed that he found his voice.

“Not running away from home?”

Legolas frowned deeply at that, “No. How old do you think I am?”

Thranduil narrowed his icy eyes at the young blonde, before he tilted his head and said, “Seventeen?”

Legolas scowled then, his forehead wrinkling sweetly, “I’m twenty-two!”

Thranduil smirked and nodded, unconvinced, before looking down to Legolas’ plate. Legolas averted his eyes to look down at the pie in front of him. The ice cream was slowly starting to melt and pool around the crust.

“Are you going to eat that, or just stare at it?”

Legolas smiled awkwardly and picked up a fork, digging in to the side of the pie and lifting a golden mouthful up to his lips. Legolas could not stop the moan of ecstasy that flew from his mouth as he tasted the sweet, crunchy apple pie melt on his tongue.

“Oh, god… This is the best apple pie I’ve ever tasted.”

Thranduil smirked again, the corner of his lips twitching up at the astonished look on Legolas’ face. He did so love it when people complimented his baking skills. 

“Do you… do you make these?” Legolas was shovelling another forkful of pie into his mouth as he spoke, momentarily forgetting he was supposed to be smooth and nonchalant in front of Thranduil.

Thranduil’s smirk grew even wider, and he nodded slowly. Legolas grinned at him, devouring the pie with gusto, “My mother could never make a pie this delicious, but it still… It reminds me of home. Or of the way home feels, anyway.”

Thranduil’s smirk faded as he continued to watch the young blonde eat, swirling the pieces of pie with ice cream and revelling in the taste. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but Legolas’ comment about home suddenly made him incredibly sad, and the icy cold piemaker felt pinpricks of tears well behind his eyes.

It was as Legolas noticed the first hint of wetness in Thranduil’s eyes that Olive popped up behind the service counter, her eyes wide at the scene in front of her. Thranduil never interacted with customers past asking their orders. And he certainly never sat down opposite one and chatted. Thranduil did not chat. He was incapable of small talk.

The petite waitress felt jealousy well up within her. The man sitting opposite Thranduil was gorgeous, just like he was, and blonde, just like he was, and apparently had made enough of an impression to get Thranduil talking. He barely even talked to her, and she was around him all day! No. No. Not on her watch.

“Thran!” Olive yelled, startling Thranduil, Legolas, and the lone man still working on his Banoffee pie. Thranduil turned his head, glaring at Olive, who was soaking wet and looked about ready to murder someone. “I need you in the back!” Olive continued, throwing a suspicious smile at Legolas, who gazed at her with large eyes. 

“Olive-” Thranduil began lowly, unused to and annoyed at being yelled at in his own restaurant. 

“It’s a… pie emergency!” Olive yelped, disappearing from view. Thranduil rolled his eyes at the waitress, before sliding out from the booth gracefully. Legolas’ eyes followed him as he vanished into the kitchen. 

Olive was clasping her hands, pacing back and forth, her hair wet from the rain.

“Olive, how many times have I told you not to call me Thran? It’s Thranduil. Only Thranduil.” Thranduil sighed, leaning against his worktop and fixing her with a death stare. Olive merely nodded her head, dismissing Thranduil’s statement with a wave of her hand. Thranduil sighed, “Well? What the hell is a pie emergency?”

Olive shrugged, unable to think of anything that could be considered an emergency that involved pies. “Uh, the trash… the dumpster has vanished. I had to bring it back.”

Thranduil glared at the tiny blonde waitress, before he shut his eyes and took a deep breath, annoyed in the extreme. Not only had he been shouted at across The Pie Hole, but Olive had also interrupted him sitting with Legolas. He didn’t quite know why it annoyed him so, to be taken away from the friendly young blonde, but something in him wanted to be back there. Back watching him eat the pie he’d made, looking in to those clear blue eyes.

“Who’s the blonde?” Olive asked, peering around the kitchen doorway at Legolas, and Thranduil opened his eyes abruptly, frowning at the question.

“No one,” Thranduil said quickly, turning back to his pies and resuming the task of garnishing them and readying them for the oven. 

Olive looked at the piemaker suspiciously, before sneaking another glance at Legolas. He was still eating his pie, though he kept throwing glances over to where Thranduil had disappeared, hoping the blonde would return and sit with him once more.

“He’s not a relative of yours? A cousin or something?” Olive knew that Thranduil had been an only child; it was one of the few things she’d gleaned about the mysterious piemaker since she’d begun working at The Pie Hole. Thranduil’s eyes snapped up to her, a scowl on his face.

“No,” Thranduil hissed, annoyed, “Why would you say that?”

Olive looked at the blonde piemaker incredulously, before she raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on her hip, “He looks like he could be your son.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes, dismissing the waitress’s comments. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that Olive fancied him; the incident with the whipped cream had made that infinitely clear. He just didn’t want to explain to her that it was impossible for him to have had a son. “He’s not my son.”

“Are you sure? Because he has the same hair… and the same blue eyes. Actually, he has the same crazy looking ears…” Olive trailed off, her eyes widening at Thranduil.

The piemaker sighed; his head had begun to throb. He didn’t enjoy his usual routine being interrupted, or being questioned by the terrier-like waitress, all he wanted was to make pies in his kitchen and to be left alone.

And maybe catch one last glimpse of Legolas when he left The Pie Hole. 

“Maybe he’s the love child you and your high school sweetheart had-”

“Olive-”

“- and she never told you and raised the baby herself-”

“Olive-”

“-and now he’s here to meet you and he wants to get to know his father and-”

Thranduil could see that Olive would not let the subject drop, and he stopped his baking for a moment to quash her ridiculous theories. “Olive, I could not have gotten my high school sweetheart pregnant, even if he and I had tried,” Thranduil said seriously, interrupting Olive’s incessant babbling abruptly, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Olive widened her eyes at Thranduil, processing the information. She blinked twice. 

“Good,” Thranduil said with a slight sneer, “Now, could you leave me alone?”

Olive raised her eyebrows, struck dumb at what Thranduil had said, and was about to dart out into The Pie Hole when she found her exit was blocked. Legolas stood at the entrance to the kitchen, his backpack over his shoulder and his eyes fixed on Thranduil. 

“Sorry,” Legolas said, blushing at having interrupted Thranduil and his tiny waitress. Thranduil looked up, his eyes locking with the young blonde’s. The piemaker’s stomach flipped over at the small, apologetic smile on Legolas’ lips. 

All Olive could do was stare at the beautiful young blonde as he took a tentative step into Thranduil’s kitchen.

“I have to go… and I was wondering if you-” Legolas was uncharacteristically nervous. Thranduil made him trip up over his words foolishly, and he felt like an idiot. But he couldn’t deny the attraction he felt towards the man, and he would happily make a fool of himself just to see him once more. Legolas let out a short laugh, which sounded more like a sigh, before he walked fully into the kitchen, stopping just short of Thranduil.

The older blonde furrowed his brow as Legolas walked up to him. Usually he hated it when strangers hung around his kitchen, but Legolas seemed to fit in to his world quite easily, and he found he liked the way Legolas looked in the cosy space. Thranduil’s pleasant musings were interrupted when Legolas grabbed his hand, pulling out a pen from his jacket pocket.

The place where Legolas touched Thranduil burned. It crackled and fizzled and tingled in the most horrific, yet pleasant, way. Thranduil became rigid as Legolas’ touch continued, and the young blonde hunched over his hand, writing a string of digits across it. The piemaker watched, entranced and repulsed and attracted all at once. He loathed being touched, and his natural instinct was to pull away. But Legolas’ touch was like no other, and he was fascinated by the way his skin had begun to buzz where it was being held. It was extremely similar to the feeling that he experienced when bringing things back to life, except stronger and less momentary. The feeling of electricity continued and was not as fleeting as the jolt of his un-dead touch. 

“I leave the day after tomorrow,” Legolas said, finishing writing his phone number on Thranduil’s pale hand. As soon as Legolas relinquished the piemaker’s hand, Thranduil felt an incredible loss. Even though his hand still burned and tingled, he longed for Legolas to touch him once more. 

Legolas smiled awkwardly at the startled blonde man, and blushed once more at being so forward. It was only standing next to Thranduil that Legolas realised how tall he actually was. He had to tilt his head up to look into Thranduil’s clear blue eyes. Legolas nodded once and then threw a friendly smile at Olive, whose mouth seemed to have unhinged itself at the scenario playing out in front of her, before he turned, hurrying out of the kitchen and The Pie Hole. 

Thranduil stared after Legolas after he’d left, his mouth hanging open sweetly and his entire body beginning to tingle. He wandered from the kitchen in a sort of daze, looking down to the dark numbers written on his hand. He reached on of The Pie Hole’s round windows and tilted forward to look out, searching for a last glimpse of the young blonde. 

Olive watched as Thranduil drifted to the window in the path that Legolas had taken, and she could not help but find his confused expression amusing. Even though she was incredibly, inconsolably jealous of the beautiful young blonde who seemed to have entranced the piemaker, she could not deny that they looked as though they were made for one another. 

Thranduil’s eyebrows twitched as he looked out of the window, one hand clasped over the other, covering the digits that were written on it. It had been years since he’d called someone from a phone number that had been scrawled on his skin, and he found the nostalgia intoxicating. He found everything about Legolas intoxicating.

Thranduil blinked in surprise as the young blonde he’d been thinking about appeared in front of him. Legolas was in his beat-up car, waiting at the stop light of the intersection in front of The Pie Hole. A small smile tugged at the corners of Thranduil’s lips as he watched Legolas hum along to whatever music he was listening to on his car stereo. 

Legolas, seeming to sense that he was being watched, turned his head and caught Thranduil’s eyes. He was surprised for a moment, before his face broke out into a grin and he beamed at the beautiful piemaker through his open window. Thranduil couldn’t help but smile back; Legolas had an incredible way of seeing straight into his soul, even from a distance. Thranduil felt his heart begin to beat rapidly, watching as Legolas averted his eyes for a moment and then quickly met Thranduil’s gaze once more, blushing sweetly.

God, he was beautiful.

That was the last coherent thought Thranduil could remember having as the screeching of tires and a sickening crunching sound invaded the rainy afternoon air. Thranduil’s face fell as he watched a minivan; traveling at full speed, slam into the back of Legolas’ car. The piemaker’s eyes widened, his blood turning to ice in his veins and a ringing noise filling his ears. Acting on instinct, Thranduil barely remembered flinging the door to The Pie Hole open and rushing out into the street. 

Thranduil was at the side of Legolas’ mangled car in seconds, his eyes darting around the interior for the young blonde. He frowned, adrenaline coursing through him and confused as to why he could not see Legolas. He did not even notice the drizzling rain that was falling onto him as he searched desperately for the young blonde. It was as he was starting to panic that he noticed a crumpled figure that had been thrown forwards onto the tarmac. 

Thranduil’s eyes widened, and he darted over to the body, coughing and spluttering through the smoke that had filled the air. Thranduil fell to his knees next to the limp blonde figure, unthinkingly reaching out for his face. All he could think of was that last look Legolas had given him, his eyes full of happiness and coy excitement. That could not be the last time he saw those eyes looking back at him.

“Legolas!” Thranduil said, cupping the blonde’s face in his hands. He felt an incredible jolt of warmth against his skin, everywhere he touched Legolas had begun to tingle once more, and he felt electricity pulse through his body and dissipate in his fingers. Thranduil looked down to Legolas’ face, his eyes wide with desperation. 

Thranduil flinched and blinked in surprise as Legolas suddenly spluttered, coughing and squinting up at the man who held him. The young blonde groaned in pain, clenching his teeth together in a grimace.

“Legolas,” Thranduil gasped, still clutching his face, “Are you okay?”

The young blonde moaned, before his eyes darted around, confused as to why he was lying in the street.

“What happened?” he moaned.

Thranduil sighed out gratefully, taking the fact that Legolas could speak as a good sign. “You were in an accident… No! Don’t try and move.” Thranduil prevented the young blonde form trying to sit up.

The piemaker looked up, blinking through the rain, and caught sight of Olive. She had a phone pressed to her face and she was yelling into the receiver, gesticulating wildly, with her eyes wide as saucers as she looked out into the street, and then back into The Pie Hole.

“It’s okay, an ambulance is on its way,” Thranduil said, looking down at Legolas once more. 

The young blonde’s eyes had cleared of his confusion somewhat, and he gazed up at Thranduil with a small smile on his lips. “You look like an angel,” he whispered.

Thranduil was kneeling over him, his blonde hair illuminated by a flickering street lamp. The light was diffracted by the rain; causing a halo to form around Thranduil’s head. It gave him an ethereal quality that Legolas stared at with utter fascination. Thranduil let out a noise that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh, and he traced the pad of his thumb across Legolas’ rain-splattered cheek. 

The peals of sirens met Thranduil’s ears as he kneeled over Legolas, trying to keep him still so that he would not cause any more injuries to himself. Soon, the scene of the accident was crawling with paramedics, the red lights of the ambulances casting an eerie glow over the street outside of The Pie Hole. 

Two paramedics rushed over to Legolas’ prone form, hurriedly checking the blonde over. “Sir, sir please step back,” one of the paramedics said to Thranduil motioning for him to move away from Legolas’ side. Thranduil began to protest when the other medic grasped his arm lightly, guiding him away.

“He’d in good hands, sir. Please, let us do our job.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened as he was pulled off of Legolas, breaking the contact he had kept with the young blonde’s skin. He immediately lost the buzzing warmth, and his heart felt hollow with loss. Legolas’ eyes followed Thranduil, large and scared at being left alone with strangers. Thranduil frowned worriedly as he was shuffled away and on to the pavement. The paramedics blocked his view of Legolas, and Thranduil fisted his hands in frustration, swallowing hard as he watched them. 

Eventually, they made to move Legolas to an ambulance. Even though he did not show any signs of injury, he needed to be checked over at the hospital. Thranduil found himself gasping in huge breaths of air, his lungs relaxing in relief and allowing him to breathe easily once more. Release flooded the piemaker’s body, and his head immediately started to pound with the pain of such an intense adrenaline rush having dissipated. 

It was only in his relief that he noticed what else was going on around The Pie Hole. He blinked in surprise as he noticed paramedics rushing inside his restaurant, and he glimpsed Olive’s stricken face through one of the windows. 

Thranduil threw one last look at Legolas, who was being lifted into an ambulance, making sure he was okay before he darted into The Pie Hole. Olive was clutching at him immediately, twisting her hands into his shirt and crying pathetically. Thranduil flinched at the contact, but was more distracted by the sight of the elderly customer, who had ordered the Banoffee pie, sprawled across the floor.

“He just keeled over! Just like that… one minute he was complimenting the pie and trying to feel me up, and the next-“ Olive dissolved in sobs once more, burying her face in Thranduil’s chest. 

Thranduil’s eyes widened as he watched the paramedics cover the elderly man’s limp form, shielding the view of the dead body. Thranduil’s blood turned to ice in his veins once more, and he shot a horrified, desolate look out of the window, watching the ambulance that held Legolas disappear from view.

Had he?  
_Oh god._

What had he done?


	2. Holy Fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil visits Legolas in the hospital, bringing with him some very dorky gifts to soften the blow of telling him that he very probably un-deaded him. Legolas doesn't quite take to the news as well as Thranduil had hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***wanders in***
> 
> Hi everyone, thanks so much for your encouragement and your kind words on the last chapter. I hope you like this update!
> 
> I have tried something new with the cover art and I've gone fully digital, so I hope you like it! :)
> 
> I have re-branded Digby as Boromir in this fic, because I couldn't imagine Thranduil naming his beloved childhood pet Digby, it just didn't work for me. So I'm living out my fantasy of brining Boromir back to life :) Hee!
> 
> Enjoy x

[](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/loveactuallyfan91/media/SAP%20Chapter%202%20Finished_zpswyn7fpur.jpg.html)

Thranduil fiddled nervously with the seam that ran along the edge of one of the plush elk’s antlers. He knew that it was a cliché to not like hospitals, and that he’d never met anyone who actually did like them, but he did have a stronger-than-normal aversion to the sterile environment. It was the feel of death that surrounded the place. He felt paranoid and jittery when surrounded by so much of it, as though he would be found out at any second if he accidentally came into contact with it. It made the tiny muscle just under the corner of his eye tremor. 

He was re-thinking the plush elk. It was huge and brown and fluffy, and he felt like an idiot holding it. He had only spoken to Legolas for a few minutes, and barely knew the young blonde; perhaps he would think a giant fluffy elk was weird and a bit creepy? Then again, he was at the hospital to tell him that he had very possibly woken him from the dead and now could never touch him for fear of killing him, again. Re-killing him. Which was probably more weird and creepy. Definitely more weird and creepy.

Thranduil heaved out a nervous sigh and pushed at the bridge of his glasses, setting them more firmly against his face. He’d been in such a rush that morning to get to the hospital that he’d forgotten to put his contacts in and had hurriedly grabbed his large, tortoiseshell glasses on his way out of his apartment. Though he hated them, and hardly ever wore them, he had been told many times that they made him look adorable. Mainly from flirty customers at The Pie Hole and, on too many occasions to count, Olive. Perhaps he hadn’t forgotten about the contacts? Maybe he wanted Legolas to think he looked adorable? Thranduil tugged on the corner of his mouth with his teeth and patted down the lapels of his black blazer; he certainly did not wear such a thing on a normal day. 

He absolutely did not wear it to impress the coroner. Thranduil had an ulterior motive for being at the hospital. He had paid the coroner a quick visit before heading upstairs to visit Legolas, hoping that he could glean some information about Banofee-pie man’s death. Unfortunately, the staff had been cagy about the titbits they shared, and he could only learn that they suspected he had died of natural causes. Namely old age.

That did not help Thranduil in the slightest. Could the man really have just died spontaneously because he was old? Or had Thranduil swapped one life for another when he’d touched Legolas? He had felt a tingling and electricity when they’d touched, but he suspected that he would have felt that if Legolas had not died. There was something about the beautiful young blonde that made his heart race, his blood pump icy cold and fiery hot at the same time, and his skin prickle with excitement and energy. 

Thranduil felt himself become hot with the thought of Legolas touching him again. Even though he knew that it would never happen again, he couldn’t get the feeling of their skin touching out of his mind. The thoughts he was having were just descending into mild depravity when he was interrupted from them. 

“Mister Orir-Orofer-” A nurse was stumbling over his last name, drawing Thranduil from his musings.

“Oropherion,” he corrected, standing up. He clutched the elk with one hand and picked up the handle of the pie box with the other. He’d brought Legolas an apple pie, hoping that the sugar and carbohydrates would soften the blow of being told that he was probably, technically, dead. Well, alive-again. Un-dead? A zombie? He was pretty cute for a zombie.

“The doctor’s done with him,” The nurse smiled at the giant elk that Thranduil toted, “Aw, are you Legolas’ father?” 

Thranduil’s eyes widened for a moment at the question, before he smiled and nodded, unwilling to explain why he would buy a giant plush for someone who was twenty-two and not related to him. 

“You have the same hair and eyes,” the nurse noted, smiling, before turning away. Thranduil was grateful she missed his grimace of awkwardness. He shut his eyes for a moment, swallowing his nervousness at the possible reaction Legolas could have, before he opened them once more. He set his mouth in a determined line and entered Legolas’ hospital room. 

Legolas looked up as Thranduil entered the room, prepared to fight with yet another doctor. They kept telling him he needed to stay for observation, but the young blonde was restless, and he felt fine, so he had begun to put up a fight and argued with them at every opportunity. His face registered surprise, and then happiness, when he recognised the tall, handsome blonde who entered the room. Thranduil was dressed differently, and wore the most adorable glasses Legolas could imagine, but there was no mistaking the shining white-gold hair and the piercing blue eyes that he had been entranced with the afternoon before.

“Thranduil!” Legolas said pushing himself to sit up in his bed. Thranduil smiled sheepishly and approached Legolas’ bed, one of only two in the room. 

Thranduil swallowed hard as he looked at Legolas. The young blonde was half under the sheets and had a bare leg tossed over the bed. He wore a thin hospital gown that was at least two sizes too big for him and this caused the piece of clothing to slide over one arm. It gave Thranduil the loveliest view of Legolas’ clavicle and shoulder, and just the very top of what looked like a very toned chest. The muscles in Legolas’ neck pulled when he smiled, and Thranduil could not help but imagine running his lips along the distended muscles, licking at the sweet skin Legolas looked as though he had. He wondered what he tasted of? 

Thranduil blinked, trying to regain control over his thoughts. It was a hopeless endeavour though, as Legolas squirmed in his bed and inadvertently revealed more of his skin to Thranduil’s eyes. The tall blonde tried to focus on something else. Legolas’ hair was a little mussed, but still the deep blonde colour that Thranduil remembered; it shone in the sparkling light that streamed through the window. His skin was pale and perfect, and it seemed as though it stretched on forever. Thranduil found himself itching to see more, to see what lay beneath the innocuous blue hospital gown. Oh god, it was hopeless. 

“You brought me a pie! And a moose!” Legolas almost squeaked at the prospect of sugar and something soft to cuddle. He’d been terribly lonely in the room, hooked up to various monitors and drips, and had been nearly climbing the walls in frustration. He was used to being allowed to roam free, to do his own thing, and being cooped up was draining for him. 

Thranduil’s face fell slightly and he looked at the stuffed animal in his arms. It was indeed a moose. Not only had he bought an adult a stuffed toy, he’d misidentified the species of said toy. There was just something about Legolas that made his brain completely stall.

“I know it’s stupid,” Thranduil said, placing the pie on the tray table over Legolas’ bed, “I just thought it may… make you happy?”

Legolas beamed and held out a hand, reaching out to Thranduil. He smiled bashfully and placed the giant moose into Legolas’ hand, carefully avoiding any contact with him. Legolas immediately pulled the plush against him, hugging it and looking at Thranduil amusedly. It was obvious he was incredibly uncomfortable in such a situation, which made Legolas all the happier that he had visited him. He had been wondering if the beautiful blonde man would come to see him, and was just giving up hope when he had suddenly appeared. 

“So,” Thranduil began, unsure of what to say now that he was actually in front of Legolas, “It seems you lucked out and don’t have a room mate.” It was all his nervous brain could think of. 

Legolas threw a scowl at the other bed, its curtains drawn tightly, “I did have one, grumpy old bastard. He died about twenty minutes ago.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened and he looked to the bed also.

“They said they’d come to move him soon, but he doesn’t really bother me. When you’re dead you’re dead. Right?”

Thranduil turned; his eyes still wide, and stared at Legolas. Oh god, how would he ever figure out how to tell the beautiful blonde what he had done? Thranduil gulped and nodded. What else could he do? Legolas seemed not to notice his apprehension, and smiled happily at him.

“I’m glad you came to visit, I was hoping you would,” he said coyly, breaking eye contact to look at the moose in his arms. Thranduil felt himself blush. It was not something he did very often, and his reaction caught him by surprise. How could this one person, whom he barely knew, cause him to feel such things? It fascinated and worried him in equal amounts.

“I had to make sure you were alright.” That wasn’t strictly true. If he had un-deaded Legolas he would not have to worry about coming close to death ever again. Boromir, his childhood pet, was proof of that. The dog was closing in on his twenty-fifth birthday and had not a single grey hair. Oh god. Boromir was older than Legolas.

“I’m insisting that they let me check myself out by the end of the day,” Legolas said, his eyes still fixed on the moose. “Perhaps you want to meet me for a drink?”

Thranduil frowned, “Should you be drinking on whatever medication you are taking?”

Legolas looked up to Thranduil, shrugging, “I’m not on anything really, I feel fine, and the doctors say there’s nothing wrong with me. Not even a scratch.” He wondered if the tall blonde was only being polite and visiting him out of pity. Perhaps he wasn’t really interested in him?

Thranduil tilted his head and fixed Legolas with a stare, “So… they didn’t find anything wrong? Nothing? Not even a broken bone?”

Legolas shook his head, “Nothing, they said it was a miracle that I was thrown clear. Apparently because I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt and my window was open I was thrown right out. If I had had it closed I would have gone through the glass. If I was wearing the seatbelt I would have been… squashed.”

Thranduil nodded absently, his mind racing. Could it have been possible that Legolas had survived? His suspicious lack of injuries, scratches and bruises made it quite likely. But what about the sudden death of the Banoffee-pie man? What of the electricity he’d felt?

“So, do you want to?” Legolas asked softly when Thranduil said nothing. Surely he could not be mistaken. The man had bought him a huge plush moose. And pie! You don’t make such a gesture if you’re not interested, surely.

Thranduil frowned in confusion and raised a questioning eyebrow, his mind still pre-occupied with Legolas’ lack of bodily injury.

“Do you want to get a drink, with me, tonight?” 

Thranduil’s brow creased sweetly. Yes. Yes, that was all he wanted. He would spend any number of nights having any number of drinks with him. He just didn’t know how Legolas would react to what he needed to tell him.

“Legolas,” he began, searching desperately for the right words. Legolas drew back slightly at Thranduil’s hesitation. 

“It’s okay, if you don’t want to- I mean, if you’d rather not I- I…” Legolas fumbled. He couldn’t believe he’d misread Thranduil so thoroughly. Oh god, was he even gay? He usually had infallible gaydar. 

“I want to,” Thranduil blurted suddenly and Legolas looked up, a small smile twitching at his lips. “I want to, Legolas. It’s just… I need to tell you something.” Thranduil lifted his hand, pushing at the bridge of his glasses nervously. Legolas’ face lit up as he saw that his number was still scrawled across Thranduil’s hand. 

“Did you wash around my number?” Legolas said, a full, beaming smile back on his face. Thranduil looked to the number and blushed again, hiding his hand in his pocket. Oh god, that was embarrassing. He’d put the number into his phone the night before, but he couldn’t bring himself to wash away Legolas’ handwriting. He was turning into an insufferable sap thanks to the gorgeous young man. 

“Legolas, I really do need to tell you something,” Thranduil said, trying to cover his mortification. Legolas barely heard Thranduil; he was still fixated on that fact that he had not washed away his number. The piemaker was more in to him than even he had thought. “It may be hard for you to understand,” Thranduil continued.

“We hardly know each other? What could it possibly be?” Legolas said; confused as to why the older blonde was acting so oddly. Thranduil cringed. He’d never told another human being about his ability to wake the dead. He had no idea as to how Legolas would react. 

“It’s about me, about something I have.”

Legolas’ eyes widened and he said, deadpan, “Chlamydia?” 

Thranduil spluttered and gasped as he tried to grimace and laugh at the same time. Legolas chuckled and marvelled at how beautiful Thranduil looked when he laughed. He was truly magnificent, and his beauty was made absolutely adorable by the way his dorky glasses perched on his nose. 

“No, no… I don’t have an STD.” Thranduil said, grinning. Legolas, it seemed, could make him smile even when he was incredibly nervous. 

“Good to know,” Legolas laughed, his eyes locking with Thranduil’s. The older blonde smiled bashfully, before trying to remember what he was going to say. Oh yes; he could wake the dead.

“Legolas…” Thranduil’s words failed him, and he bowed his head, looking to his shoes in exasperation. Legolas became serious, and frowned at Thranduil.

“Whatever it is, it won’t make me like you any less,” he said solemnly and Thranduil raised his head, a sadness tinting his eyes.

“It may make you despise me,” Thranduil said solemnly.

Legolas raised his eyebrows. What could Thranduil possibly say that would make him despise the man?

“It’s something I’ve always had, ever since I can remember. An ability of sorts,” Thranduil said, he was dancing around the subject, trying to soften the blow. “And I think I may have accidentally used it on you.”

Legolas was exceptionally confused, “You know you’re not making any sense, right?”

Thranduil sighed, a strained smile on his lips as he looked at Legolas’ confused young face. He didn’t know why, perhaps it was the fat moose that Legolas’ clutched, but he felt as though he could tell him anything. Even though he had known him less than a day, he had the feeling that everything would be okay, that the young man would accept him no matter what he said. He guessed that he should just come out with it, no point in beating around the bush.

“I can… bring things, living things, back to life,” Thranduil said softly, his eyes scrutinizing Legolas’ face for his reactions, “When they die. I can bring them back to life again.”

Legolas’ frown deepened. “Okay,” he said slowly, narrowing his eyes at Thranduil, who looked as though he was in physical pain. Legolas raised one of his hands and scratched delicately at his cheek, processing what Thranduil was saying. Was the man so uninterested in him that he had to make up crazy stories to get out of having a drink with him? Or maybe he was just crazy. He had only met him yesterday. Oh god, he’d bought him a giant stuffed moose. Perhaps that was weird and creepy, and not exceptionally cute as he had thought. Maybe he was a crazy serial killer who wanted to kill and stuff him? Oh god. 

Thranduil raised an eyebrow when Legolas said nothing more. He could almost see Legolas’ brain working overtime, processing his thoughts, though he said nothing. He only looked at Thranduil warily, as though the tall blonde might try and kidnap and murder him at any second.

“I’m not crazy, Legolas, I swear… I’m only telling you this because I think I may have brought you back to life yesterday… when I touched you.” Thranduil took a step forwards, hoping to make Legolas believe him. 

Legolas’ eyes widened and he tried to move back in his hospital bed, leaning as far away from the crazy man as possible. “Is this some elaborate attempt to try and get out of going for a drink with me? Uh, because I must tell you, it’s working.”

Thranduil sighed; of course he didn’t believe him. Who in their right mind would? 

“Thanks for the pie, and the moose and visiting me and everything, but… I think maybe you should leave?” Legolas said slowly, trying to find the remote to call a nurse from out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t want to make any sudden moves in Thranduil’s presence, in case he truly was insane and would try and murder him right in his own hospital room. 

Thranduil creased his brow, his expression pleading with Legolas to understand. He was about to insist that he was not crazy once more, when he had a better idea. It may not be the most subtle thing to do, but it would certainly prove he wasn’t crazy. Thranduil clenched his jaw and shut his eyes, taking a steadying breath, before he turned and walked around Legolas, moving over to the second bed in the room. Legolas’ eyes were glued to the tall blonde, wide and scared at what he may do. 

Thranduil pulled the curtains around the bed back, exposing the pale and stiff form of the elderly man that had been Legolas’ roommate. Legolas’ eyes darted from Thranduil to the man, and back to Thranduil again. 

“Thranduil!” he squeaked, “What are you doing?” Where was that goddamn nurse call button?

“I’m proving to you that I’m not crazy,” Thranduil said, raising his wrist to look at his watch. He had a minute, though he only needed a second to bring the dead man back to life.

“I don’t think you should be messing with a dead body!” Legolas’ voice had become strained and panicky. Why did he always attract the craziest of men?

“But he’s not dead,” Thranduil said, gently tapping the dead man’s cheek. He felt the characteristic jolt of electricity and the man instantly opened his eyes, sitting up with a confused expression on his face.

Legolas let out a squeaky, “Ah!” before he jumped from his bed, pulling off his heart monitor and dragging the IV with him. “Holy fuck!” he cried, trying to get as far away from the un-dead man as possible while still clutching at his moose.

“Watch your language young man!” the old man growled at Legolas. “And where are my slippers? Did you steal them again?”

Legolas mouth dropped open and he gaped at the old man for a moment before he said, “I didn’t steal your godforsaken slippers, Harold. I told you that last night!”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows, still keeping a close eye on his watch.

Forty seconds.

“I can only bring him back for a minute,” Thranduil said.

Legolas looked at him in utter shock for a few seconds, having momentarily forgotten that Thranduil was even in the room.

“He was dead!” Legolas cried, because it was the only coherent thing he could think of saying.

“Who was dead?” Harold said, looking to Thranduil. “Who are you?” 

Thirty seconds.

Thranduil nodded, ignoring the old man, “Yes, he was. Now he’s not.”

“Who’s not?”

“How did you do that?” Legolas cried.

Thranduil shrugged, keeping an eye on his watch. Twenty seconds.

“What did you do? And why are you wearing such hideous glasses?” Harold said grumpily, scowling at Thranduil. “You look like my mother.” The piemaker shot the old man an annoyed look.

“What the fuck is going on?” Legolas yelped to no one in particular. His eyes were wide, his face was drained of colour and he had begun to sweat.

“Okay, that’s it young man, I’m going to wash your mouth out!” Harold said, making to get up from the bed.

Ten seconds.

“Okay, your time’s up,” Thranduil said, touching Harold on the cheek. The man immediately fell back on to the bed, very dead once more. Thranduil sighed and hurriedly drew the curtains closed. He was afraid to look at Legolas, afraid of what the young blonde might say. When he eventually did look at him, Legolas was breathing heavily, his mouth agape and his eyes wild with shock. 

“Legolas,” Thranduil began, making to walk around the bed towards him. Legolas backed away violently, crashing in to the window behind him and getting caught up in the slatted blinds. He struggled for a few moments, before he freed himself and moved as far away as he possibly could from the piemaker.

“Legolas, please, try and understand. I didn’t mean to do it; I didn’t think when I touched you in the street yesterday. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, it didn’t cross my mind that you were dead.” Thranduil tried to make him understand. He had to understand.

Legolas’ face crinkled into one of agony and confusion, and he felt tears well up in his eyes. “I’m not dead!” he said, his mouth pulling into a grimace at the edges. 

“You’re not dead now, no, but I think you may have been,” Thranduil said softly, trying to be as calm as possible. It was obvious that Legolas was freaking out, and he needed the young blonde to stay calm.

“You think? You think I may have been dead?” Legolas cried, sliding one hand into his hair and digging his nails into his scalp. “You don’t know?” He was so utterly confused and scared. Who the hell was this man who could touch someone and bring them back to life? Maybe he was asleep and dreaming this whole thing? Or maybe he was dead, and this is what hell was like? Oh god, was Thranduil the angel of death? He was utterly gorgeous for an angel of death, but still…

“I don’t remember doing it. I felt electricity when I touched you, but I felt that when you wrote your number on my hand. I haven’t brought many humans back to life, it’s mainly been fruit, so I don’t really know what it entails!” Thranduil was fiddling with the hem on his jacket nervously; Legolas wasn’t taking it as well as he would have hoped.

“Fruit?” Legolas hissed, before his eyes widened in understanding. “You bring dead fruit back to life to put in your pies?” he squeaked, “I ate un-dead zombie apples?”

“Well-” Thranduil began, but Legolas cut him off.

“Oh my god, oh my god… no, no, you have to leave… now… leave!” Legolas had begun to ramble, his eyes darting around his bed for the remote. 

Thranduil tried to approach him once again, softly pleading with Legolas to understand. But the young blonde was confused and distraught and thoroughly freaked out. 

“Leave, now! Get out! I’m going to call a nurse!” Legolas said, finally having found the call button. Thranduil stopped walking forwards and held his hands up in surrender. He couldn’t risk anyone else finding out, especially not a medical professional. They’d probably lock him up in a psych ward for most of is life, if he was lucky. If he was unlucky they’d probably experiment on him for the rest of his life.

“Get out!”

Thranduil backed away slowly, his hands still held up. He gave Legolas one last, sad look, before he exited the hospital room. He paused just outside, taking a deep breath and trying to steady his emotions, before he hastily made his way out of the hospital and back to The Pie Hole.


	3. I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas comes looking for Thranduil at The Pie Hole to apologise for the way he treated him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***wanders in eating popcorn***
> 
> Hi! Here's the next chapter :) I hope you like the artwork and the way this story is going. This chapter is especially for Azriel_Lolita, I hope it puts a smile on your face! She bribed me with a virtual burrito and froyo to do this :)
> 
> Enjoy x

[](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/loveactuallyfan91/media/SAP%20Chapter%203_zpsgg7nmmrl.jpg.html)

Thranduil did not eat his own pies. Making them with fruit he’d revived caused the pies to turn rotten in his mouth if he tried to consume them, and he tended to stay far away from them once they were made and baked. Today though, he was preparing a pie that he could in fact eat. He’d specifically gone to the store and bought the best baking apples he could find, shiny and red and very much not dead. 

The Pie Hole was fairly busy that day, with a few patrons scattered about the booths, but Thranduil had made sure that all his work baking had been done for the day. He needed pie and sugar and carbs, and he had set about baking his own special pie. He was completely absorbed in own world as he made the pastry for the crust, consumed by his thoughts of what had occurred between himself and Legolas a few days previously.

He hadn’t dared to go back to the hospital in case Legolas decided to throw him out once more. Ever since he’d returned from visiting the young blonde he’d been convinced that some one would be at his door ready to kidnap him and take him in to some testing facility or stark experimental lab. As the days passed without incident, it became obvious that Legolas had not called anyone about him and his abilities and Thranduil was incredibly grateful that he’d decided to keep his secret safe. 

The piemaker smiled sadly as he worked, kneading the pastry. He could just make out the faint strokes of Legolas’ phone number on the back of his hand. He’d avoided washing the digits off for some reason, even when the lovely young man had rejected him and thrown him out of his hospital room. He didn’t know why they were so important to him; perhaps it was a reminder of the electric touch that they’d shared? Perhaps he was just so lonely that any reminder that someone wanted to spend time with him was precious.

“You know, you’re supposed to wear the hairnet?” Olive interrupted Thranduil’s thoughts, waltzing into the kitchen and leaning on the piemaker’s workbench. Thranduil rolled his eyes.

“I’m not making this one for paying customers, so the hairnet can go and screw itself.” He hated the thing. It made him look like somebody’s grandmother, and he avoided wearing it whenever he could. At that moment, it was lying sadly next to a half-eaten dish of pie. 

“You never eat your own pies,” Olive said, picking at a bit of discarded raspberry pie and popping a sliver of it into her mouth. 

“This one’s special.” Thranduil turned his attention back to kneading, hoping that the waitress would see it as the end of their conversation. All he wanted was to finish his pie, bake it, and consume the entire thing up in his apartment as a morose homage to his ill-fated interaction with the beautiful Legolas.

“Why? Is it for your boyfriend?” Olive teased, recognising but absolutely not taking the hint that Thranduil wanted to be alone.

Thranduil clenched his jaw and worked the pastry harder than he should have. He didn’t know why it hurt so much to think of Legolas. He’d known him for less than a day. It should not hurt as much as it did. 

When Thranduil did not answer, but only stalwartly avoided her eyes, Olive sighed and popped another piece of pie into her mouth. “Well, he’s here to see you.”

Thranduil’s brow twitched and he stopped making pastry, looking to the tiny waitress. “Who is?”

“Your boyfriend, the pretty blonde one from a few days ago,” Olive said casually, “He’s holding a giant moose, did you get that for him?” She was equal parts jealous of the young blonde man and endeared by Thranduil’s soft side. “Anyway, he’s right outside asking for you.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened, and his gaze darted out of the kitchen. There, across the serving counter and half obscured by his display pies, Legolas stood, looking straight at him. Everything around Thranduil slowed apart from his heartbeat. Immediately, it was pounding against his rib cage, pushing heated blood around his body furiously. He felt the creep of a blush begin to climb his cheeks, and his mouth dropped open a little. Legolas’ eyes held a strange emotion. Thranduil decided that it looked halfway between fear and nervousness, yet it did not dim the beauty of his clear blue eyes. If fact, it made them all the more exquisite. 

Legolas stared at the beautiful piemaker as he looked at him. Every time he laid eyes on Thranduil his pulse started to race and he heard a faint roaring sound fill his ears. Thranduil looked astonished, scared even, and Legolas noticed that his lips parted delightfully when he was taken by surprise. It was a gorgeous sight to behold, Thranduil in a soft grey shirt and white apron, with a slight smudge of flour across one cheek. He was perfect, and Legolas only hoped that he would forgive him. He was optimistic about his chances when he saw the corners of Thranduil’s mouth twitch up into a tiny smile. The man was utterly entrancing when he smiled.

“Olive, kick everyone out,” Thranduil said, his eyes never leaving Legolas’. 

Olive frowned, still digging in to the discarded raspberry pie, “We still have three hours of serving time,” she said, her mouth half-full with pie.

“I don’t care, we’re closing early.” Thranduil did not even glance to the disgruntled waitress as she sighed and rolled her eyes, making her way from the kitchen to kick out their patrons. A small smile had crept on to Legolas’ face as he looked at Thranduil, barely registering the grumbling of people around him as they were shooed from The Pie Hole by Olive. 

Legolas bit his bottom lip delicately and reached for the backpack that he’d laid on the floor. He shrugged it on to his shoulder and clutched his giant stuffed moose tighter as he wandered over to the kitchen, standing awkwardly in the doorway. Olive had just gotten the last customer out of the restaurant, and she squeezed past Legolas to enter the kitchen once more.

“Everyone’s out, and grumpy as hell, well done.” She sighed, placing The Pie Hole key on the table next to Thranduil. He nodded absently at her, his eyes fixed to Legolas. Olive rolled her eyes at the two blondes, before she made her way to the kitchen door; at least she was getting a few hours off. She cast the two men one last glance, raising her eyebrows at the looks they were giving one another.

“Don’t do anything unhygienic on the food prep counters,” she grumbled as she left. Legolas blushed deeply at her words, and he was forced to break eye contact with Thranduil as images of what he would like to do to the blonde man flashed through his mind. Thranduil smiled bashfully as Olive shut the kitchen door, leaving them alone. 

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Thranduil said softly. 

Legolas looked up, his eyes catching Thranduil’s nervous gaze, “I had to apologise to you.”

Thranduil blinked once, confused, “Apologise? To me?”

“You didn’t deserve to be treated that way, and I’m sorry.” Legolas gulped. He was ashamed of the way he’d shouted at Thranduil, and of the way he’d unceremoniously kicked him out of his hospital room even though he’d been nothing but kind to him. 

Thranduil tilted his head; he hadn’t expected an apology. “If anything, I should be saying sorry… I shouldn’t have just woken that man up. It was stupid and reckless and I must have terrified you.”

Legolas smiled and walked further in to the kitchen, dropping his backpack on the floor once more. “If you hadn’t, I would still have thought you’d lost your mind. It was the only thing you could do to make me believe you.”

Thranduil frowned and nodded; he couldn’t believe that he was actually having a conversation with someone about his ability. A normal, rational conversation. It was like a dream. A wonderful, incredible dream; was Legolas actually accepting him?

Legolas swallowed hard and looked deep into Thranduil’s ice blue eyes as he said, “I realised after you’d left that I was being an utter moron. You’re amazing, and you have an… incredible ability,” he paused, nibbling on his lip, “and I’m sorry for making you feel like a freak.”

Thranduil didn’t know how to react. He stared at Legolas for a few long moments, completely shocked. Who was this wonderful being that seemed to see him for what he truly was? Where had he come from? What had he done to deserve him?

“I had to work up the courage to see you again. I’m sorry, Thranduil. Will you forgive me?” Legolas whispered, approaching the piemaker. Thranduil’s eyes widened and he took an awkward step back from the approaching blonde. Legolas stopped immediately, taken aback by Thranduil’s movements. Had he hurt the beautiful piemaker more than he thought? Maybe he was no longer interested?

“No…” Thranduil said when he saw a look of embarrassment cross Legolas’ pretty features. Legolas looked at him questioningly. “I… I can’t touch you.”

Legolas looked confused for a second, before he was struck with a horrific understanding. “You can’t control it?”

Thranduil looked down sadly and shook his head. Legolas opened his mouth to say something, but he found that he was at a loss for words. Not being able to touch Thranduil was pure torture, all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around him and bury his face in his strong chest. Legolas smiled despite himself and lifted the stuffed moose up, clutching it with both arms.

“That’s okay, I’ll just hug him instead.” He squeezed the giant moose, pretending it was Thranduil. 

Thranduil looked up, a surprised smile stretching across his face. Legolas was absolutely perfect. Legolas grinned back, relieved that Thranduil seemed to have forgiven him. 

§§§

Legolas had flour all over his face, halfway down his neck, and on one of the tips of his pointy ears. He looked absolutely adorable, and Thranduil had trouble keeping his concentration on the pie they were currently making. Thranduil had offered to teach Legolas how to make his amazing apple pie and the young blonde had readily accepted, depositing his moose on top of his discarded backpack and eagerly joining the piemaker. 

Thranduil made sure to keep a healthy distance between them, paranoid about being too close to Legolas. He didn’t think he could handle it if he accidentally touched him. Legolas was a fast learner and Thranduil began making the pastry once more, having over kneaded the previous batch. Legolas seemed fascinated by the making of the pie, and enthusiastically chopped apples, casting a coy smile in Thranduil’s direction intermittently.

“Did you bring these apples back to life?” Legolas asked, picking up a large red apple and peering at it suspiciously. Thranduil smiled at the endearing expression on Legolas’ face.

“No, I bought them. I wanted to make a pie I could actually eat.” Thranduil continued making the pastry. He didn’t know how Legolas had gotten so much flour all over himself; he’d barely touched any of the white powder, yet he seemed to have the innate ability to get himself exceptionally messy. Thranduil didn’t mind; Legolas looked especially cute covered in smudges of flour. He only wished he could brush them off Legolas’ smooth skin. 

“Of course, you can’t eat them,” Legolas said, his eyes wide at the piemaker, “How do you stand making all of these delicious pies and not being able to taste them?”

Thranduil shrugged, he’d gotten so used to it that he hardly noticed. 

“What made you suddenly want apple pie then?” Legolas said, a tiny smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth. Thranduil smiled bashfully and shrugged once more, focusing on the pastry. This slight young blonde could make him blush at anything. He couldn’t believe the effect Legolas had on him. He usually couldn’t care less about anyone or anything, yet Legolas had somehow bypassed all of his usual walls. He had clambered right in to Thranduil’s heart and even though he knew it was dangerous, physically and emotionally, Thranduil could not help but let him steal it. 

Legolas thought he knew why Thranduil had had a sudden craving for apple pie, and his heart and stomach fluttered in unison. Thranduil seemed bashful at Legolas’ question, so he changed tack, wanting to know as much as possible about his piemaker. His piemaker? He was probably in too deep.

“Have you always had your ability?” he asked, lowering the apple and beginning to slice into it. 

Thranduil nodded, “Yes, always. I found out about it when I was ten, I brought my mother back to life.”

Legolas’ forehead creased sadly, “Is she still alive?” Perhaps there was someone else on earth that could understand his feelings about being an un-dead zombie. 

A shadow of sadness passed over Thranduil’s face and he cleared his throat, “No, I touched her again before I knew that it would kill her.”

Legolas stopped cutting, unable to imagine how traumatic that would have been for a ten year old. He was about to try and comfort the beautiful blonde piemaker when Thranduil continued in a serious tone.

“There’s something else you need to know, Legolas. Something else about my ability.”

Legolas raised his eyebrows expectantly, scared at what it could be. Though he doubted it could be worse than learning he was actually dead and the man he was starting to fall in love with could never touch him again. That was already pretty awful.

“I can only bring something back to life for a minute. If it’s longer, something else of equal value has to die.” Thranduil said slowly, softly and deliberately. He knew that he had to tell Legolas of this very important caveat to his ability, though he was scared that he would reject him once more.

Legolas processed Thranduil’s words slowly, blinking at the piemaker. Thranduil’s face scrunched into a small grimace, afraid of Legolas’ reaction. 

“You mean,” Legolas swallowed hard, “You mean that someone had to die for me to stay alive?”

Thranduil nodded sadly, thinking of the Banoffee-pie man sprawled out on The Pie Hole’s chequered floor. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, Legolas.”

Legolas’ face softened as he saw how torn up Thranduil was. It was obvious that the piemaker regretted his actions and he didn’t feel as though he needed more guilt to be placed on his shoulders.

“But perhaps you didn’t do anything?” Legolas said, smiling slightly, “Perhaps you didn’t bring me back to life and I miraculously escaped?”

Thranduil sighed out of a breath of relief before smiling at Legolas. The young blonde smiled back and picked up the knife once more to continue slicing. Though the thought of someone dying to keep him alive tortured him, he knew he couldn’t blame Thranduil. It was not his fault and he was unwilling to hurt the man again, not when they’d just made up. 

The two blondes worked in an easy silence for a while, Thranduil lining a dish with pastry and Legolas tossing together the ingredients of the filling. It was as Thranduil was pushing the pie base into the oven to blind bake that his curiosity about Legolas finally got the better of him.

“Aren’t your family worried about you?” he asked as they both leaned against the counter, waiting for the base to bake. “I didn’t see anyone at the hospital?”

Legolas dropped his eyes sadly, before forcing a small smile onto his face, “I don’t have any family any more.”

Thranduil immediately regretted prying, “Legolas-”

“It’s alright, I’ve been alone for most of my life and I barely remember them. I’ve been travelling around the country for the past four years, so I don’t form many deep friendships either.” Legolas fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he spoke. He forced the words out quickly, as if they’d hurt him less if they were over sooner. “There wasn’t really anyone to call when I went into the hospital.”

A heavy silence filled the air between Legolas and Thranduil, both blondes lost in their thoughts. Eventually Thranduil broke the quietness, giving a voice to his musings. “What are you searching for with all the travelling?” Thranduil said.

Legolas’ eyes darted to Thranduil’s. The words, ‘You, I was searching for you.’ Were on the tip of his tongue but he bit them back. He was afraid that he might scare Thranduil. After all, they’d only known each other a few days; it didn’t seem rational to have such feelings for a man he barely knew. Instead he said, “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure I’ll recognise it when I’ve found it.” That would have been true a few days ago. But now he did know. He knew inherently that he was meant to find the blonde piemaker. 

Thranduil paused for a moment and thought over Legolas’ words before his eyes fell to the ragged backpack lying on his kitchen floor.

“Where are you staying?” Thranduil asked.

Legolas was taken aback by the change of conversation, “Uh, nowhere yet. The annoying doctors kept me in the hospital for as long as possible. They didn’t believe that I could have escaped with absolutely no injuries.”

“I have a spare bedroom, I live in one of the apartments upstairs,” Thranduil blurted. Perhaps he was being too forward? Maybe Legolas would think him insane? Again.

Legolas’ eyes lit up at the suggestion, he could think of nothing better than to be around Thranduil all the time. Even though the living arrangement may be dangerous to him, he could not find the strength to reject the offer when it was what he wanted so badly. 

“You want me to move in with you?” Legolas asked, beaming.

Thranduil looked to his toes and nodded before stuttering, “I just mean… I think it would be easier, and you wouldn’t have to pay any rent or anything… That’s if you want to stay in town… I mean…” How had this young man turned Thranduil into such a gibbering idiot? He was usually exceptionally eloquent and not prone to stumbling over his words at all.

Legolas blushed and looked down for a beat before he lifted his sparkling eyes, looking at Thranduil coyly. His happiness was quickly tainted by the memory of the fact that he would never be able to touch the beautiful piemaker, should he want to live. His smile turned sad, and his brow creased. Thranduil, sensing what Legolas was feeling, looked up and smiled sadly back, clasping his hands behind him. Legolas had no reason to continue being around him. In fact, every moment he was in Thranduil’s presence was a danger to his life. Thranduil expected him to leave and to never see him again.

Instead of leaving, Legolas’ eyes roved around searching for something he could touch Thranduil with. Anything. He was tempted to pick up his moose once more and give it a crushing hug before his eyes fell on a roll of plastic wrap. His face lit up, it was perfect. Thranduil was taken aback at the bright smile that slid onto Legolas’ face and he frowned as the young blonde grabbed his roll of plastic wrap.

“What are you doing?” Thranduil asked, tilting his head in interest. Legolas only smiled and ripped a piece of plastic off of the roll. He approached Thranduil, who blinked and stepped back, colliding with a counter.

“Legolas! Don’t-“ Thranduil was cut off as Legolas raised his hands, holding the plastic against Thranduil’s face. He leaned up, pressing their lips together, separated by only the thinnest layers of clear plastic. Thranduil flinched at the touch before his eyes fluttered closed and he sighed against Legolas’ plastic covered lips. God, it felt amazing. Legolas moved cautiously as first, before sucking on Thranduil’s bottom lip through the plastic, drawing a strangled moan from the man. Thranduil’s breathy moan caused Legolas to let out a strained whimper; the feeling of Thranduil in his mouth was indescribably exquisite. 

“Legolas,” Thranduil gasped as he pulled away, lowering the plastic, “You should not have done that.” Thranduil did not sound angry at all. In fact, his voice sounded high and breathy, as if he’d just gone for a brisk walk. 

Legolas smiled sweetly up at him, still able to feel the ghost of the pressure of Thranduil’s lips. It was intoxicating. 

“Would you like to do it again?” Legolas whispered and Thranduil nodded without even having to think about it. Even though it could be dangerous, he’d felt Legolas against him now and he wanted more. Legolas’ smiled widened and he kissed Thranduil again. Even though all he could taste was plastic and all he could feel was the smooth texture of the thin film, Legolas could not help but lose himself in Thranduil’s lips. 

Thranduil growled against Legolas’ mouth as someone banged on the door of The Pie Hole. Couldn’t whoever it was see the ‘closed’ sign? Legolas made to pull away from the piemaker but Thranduil followed his lips, pressing them together once more. Legolas sighed and whimpered at the delicious pressure and warmth he felt through the plastic wrap. He was somewhat glad at the fact that he couldn’t taste Thranduil, for he felt his knees might give way if he could. If the man could kiss this well through plastic, he must be amazing without it. 

The banging on The Pie Hole’s door continued and eventually Thranduil relinquished Legolas’ lips. Legolas lowered the plastic slowly, looking up into Thranduil’s lust clouded eyes. He could tell that his own cheeks were as red as Thranduil’s as they were pounding hot with restrained want. What he would give to be able to touch Thranduil’s miles of pale, perfect skin. Thranduil’s eyebrows twitched in annoyance and he smiled apologetically down at Legolas.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Thranduil breathed, sliding past Legolas and grabbing the discarded key on the table before storming to The Pie Hole’s front door. Legolas smiled as he watched him walk away, already eyeing the roll of plastic wrap. He wondered how far Thranduil would be willing to go if they experimented with wrapping various appendages in plastic. 

Thranduil wrenched the door open, glaring at the person who was causing such a noise, “Can’t you see we’re closed?” he fumed, irate at being dragged away from Legolas’ gorgeous lips. 

The man outside the door raised an eyebrow at the furious blonde piemaker before he pulled a card from his pocket, handing it to Thranduil. Thranduil snatched it out of his hand, squinting down at it. 

“Emerson Cod, Private investigator.” Thranduil read the card absently, confused as to why there would be a private investigator banging on his door.

“I’m here about the man who died in your,” Emerson threw The Pie Hole’s crusty roof a disapproving glare before he fixed Thranduil with suspicious eyes, “Pie Hole.”


	4. Oh My God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil has some very inappropriate dreams about Legolas, and Legolas gets a little frisky with some plastic wrap and an oven glove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***stumbles in***
> 
> Hi! :) Here is the next chapter... there's not much to say really other than the rating has gone up. And that I hope you like the art.
> 
> <3

[](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/loveactuallyfan91/media/SAP%20Chapter%204%202_zpsu4knt8rt.jpg.html)

Thranduil knew it was a dream, he knew that when he woke up that the image of Legolas would torture him, but oh what a beautiful dream it was. It was the same dream he had every night, and he’d come to look forward to the recurring fantasy of having Legolas writhing on top of him, even if it did leave him feeling hollow and empty when he woke up. 

Within the first week of living together they had moved Legolas’ bed into Thranduil’s room, both feeling as though sleeping in the same space made up for their lack of physical contact. Thranduil loved watching Legolas fall asleep, when he did eventually sleep that was. Most nights Legolas would stare at him from across the room, itching to touch him and having a hard time restraining himself until weariness eventually overcame him. Thranduil didn’t blame him; he knew exactly how hard it was. 

The dream always began the same way; with Legolas accidentally falling onto him while he was lying in his bed. When they realised that Thranduil’s touch did not cause Legolas to become dead again, they would immediately go at it like horny teenagers. Legolas always ended up on top, ripping Thranduil’s clothes away and grinding himself down onto him. Thranduil was always breathless and gasping and touching as much of Legolas’ pale skin as he possibly could.

After much fumbling and pausing for dirty, hot kisses, Legolas would lower himself down onto Thranduil’s aching length, stretching himself deliciously around the older blonde’s large cock. He would gasp and his forehead would crinkle at the unbelievable pleasure mixed with just a tinge of pain. Thranduil would rest his hands on Legolas’ hips, digging his fingers into his pliant flesh, and then the young blonde would move. He would begin slowly, rolling his hips languidly on top of Thranduil before his desperation would get the better of him and he would end up slamming himself down on Thranduil’s cock, drawing harsh cries from both of them. 

It was usually at this moment that something woke Thranduil. It was mostly his alarm clock, though a few times it had been because Legolas had grown tired of waiting for him to awaken and had decided to tickle the tip of his nose with the edge of his duvet. He enjoyed Legolas as his alarm clock infinitely more. Today it was Legolas who woke him, though it was not with the tip of his duvet, but rather with a hand on Thranduil’s cheek.

Thranduil was just starting to lose himself in the pleasure of dream-Legolas’ taut, writhing body when he felt a light pressure on the side of his face. His eyes flew open and he jolted awake, startled. 

“Were you having another dirty dream about me?” Legolas asked, biting his lip. He was perched on the edge of Thranduil’s bed and had his oven-glove-covered hand pressed to Thranduil’s cheek. It had been impossible to hide his nightly dreams from Legolas, as they always seemed to affect Thranduil in the most lewd way imaginable. Legolas had told him that he had even cried out in his sleep, rubbing himself against his bed to gain some friction on his hard cock. Even though it was mortifying for Thranduil, Legolas seemed to like the fact that his dream self was able to touch Thranduil in ways that he wanted to. Legolas was fascinated by the lucid dreams Thranduil had, and he even suggested things for dream-Legolas to do to Thranduil; on the off chance it would take hold in Thranduil’s unconscious brain while he slept. 

Thranduil blinked up at Legolas, his eyes darting to the oven-glove at his face. “You interrupted a very nice dream,” Thranduil mumbled, pushing himself up. He fiddled with the bed sheets, making sure that they obscured his pulsing erection. Legolas grinned at him and looked down to Thranduil’s lap, aching to see what lay beneath.

“Breakfast’s ready,” Legolas smiled, his eyes still fixed to Thranduil’s crotch. “I made pancakes.” One of Legolas’ favourite things to do on a Friday morning was to wake Thranduil up with breakfast and an oven-glove-covered caress of his face. It was a far cry from how Thranduil wanted Legolas to wake him up, but it was lovely all the same. Thranduil began to blush under Legolas’ stare, his eyes fixed to his lap. 

“Legolas-” Thranduil began, but he was interrupted.

“What was I doing?” Legolas said, his eyes darting up to gaze into Thranduil’s eyes. He was still half-awake and a bit disoriented from his dream.

“Uh-” It wasn’t the first time Legolas had asked to know details of Thranduil’s dreams, yet it was still embarrassing. 

“What was I doing… exactly,” Legolas said again, sliding his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down. He had watched Thranduil for a few minutes before he’d woken the piemaker up and it had looked as though his dream had been more than pleasant. The sound of Thranduil’s moans were delicious, and he took what little pleasure he could in the fact that his dream self was causing Thranduil to make such noises. In fact, he was quite proud of the way dream-Legolas could drawn such desperate moans from Thranduil.

“Legolas,” Thranduil said, shuffling under the bed sheets. Legolas’ questions about his dream only seemed to make his cock stiffen further.

“I want to know what I was doing,” Legolas said quickly. “Please, tell me how I was touching you.” Legolas moved forwards slightly, shifting further on to the bed. Thranduil shied away, afraid of being too close to Legolas.

Thranduil grimaced before he shrugged and said, “You were… very good.”

“Thranduil!” Legolas huffed; he was becoming more and more turned on, effected by the sight of Thranduil trying to cover his erection. The piemaker’s cheeks were a ruddy pink and his hair was messy. His chest was moving deliciously as he breathed in gulps of air, trying to steady his breathing and his heart rate.

“Dream-Legolas is very skilled, that’s all you have to know,” Thranduil said, looking down into his lap. While his imagination ran rampant when he was asleep, Thranduil was characteristically reserved when he was awake. While he and Legolas had used a suspicious amount of plastic wrap since Legolas had moved in, they hadn’t done much more than explore each other’s lips, separated by only a thin wisp of plastic. He’d caught Legolas exiting the shower one morning and had been treated to a glorious view of the young blonde’s ass, but that was the extent of their physical relationship. He felt awkward talking about how seductive and utterly depraved his dreams of the beautiful young man were. 

Legolas fixed Thranduil with a stare for a few moments before he leaned across the bed, reaching over the bed sheets and cupping Thranduil’s erection in his oven-glove-covered hand. He couldn’t feel much through the layers of material, but he could feel enough. 

“Legolas! Oh…” Thranduil’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and his eyes flew open, staring down at the hand cupping his crotch. Legolas swallowed hard as he felt the piemaker; Thranduil was larger than he’d expected. The man was tall, yes, and well muscled, but he hadn’t expected him to be so well endowed. It made him ache to feel Thranduil inside of him. 

“Tell me what I was doing to you,” Legolas rasped, his voice sounding strained even to himself. He didn’t know what had gotten in to him; he hadn’t wanted to push Thranduil into a more physical relationship and so had been restraining himself. He just couldn’t resist touching the piemaker any longer. He rubbed his hand along Thranduil’s length, trying to use as much finesse as his hindered touch would allow to give Thranduil pleasure.

“Legolas, stop,” Thranduil said half-heartedly, his eyes slipping closed. The pressure on his pounding erection felt glorious.

“You don’t want me to stop,” Legolas breathed, shifting himself so that he was even closer to Thranduil. The piemaker dig his fingers into the sheets around him, twisting them into his palms and digging the material into his flesh. He knew that it was foolish to allow Legolas to lean in so close and touch him in such a way, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed it. “Now, tell me, what was I doing?”

Thranduil bit his lip, his teeth leaving marks in his pale skin. “You were… oh, you… were on top of me.”

Legolas smirked, twisting his hand deliciously, rewarding Thranduil for his words. The piemaker gasped and bucked into Legolas’ hand. “Was I riding you?”

Thranduil’s brain began to short out, the words coming out of Legolas’ mouth driving him insane. Just to hear such filthy things from such beautiful lips set the piemaker on edge and he felt an incredible heat begin to pool in his abdomen. He nodded despite himself and he moaned as Legolas gave his cock another delightful twist.

“Was I touching myself like this?” Legolas growled, releasing his awkward grip on Thranduil’s cock in favour of rubbing against it. The piemaker groaned at the change of pace and his eyes opened, looking to Legolas. He gulped hard when he saw that Legolas’ left hand was underneath his own sweatpants. He wanted to touch him over his pants, but he was too afraid and too distracted to try. “Was I?”

Thranduil nodded again, his eyes fixed to where he could see Legolas’ hand moving on himself. It was the most erotic thing Thranduil had ever experienced, and both of them were still fully clothed. 

“Did I take you in my mouth?” Legolas said, his own eyes slipping closed; the pleasure was almost too much. His pent up sexual frustration at not being able to touch Thranduil, as he should have been able to, spilling over. Thranduil let out one of his lows moans and thrust against Legolas’ hand, his breathing ragged. Legolas’ dirty talk made him want to come on the spot. 

“Yes,” Thranduil managed to rasp out, his face contorting into a grimace of pleasure.

“Did I gag on you when you thrust into my mouth?”

“Oh my god,” Thranduil gasped, Legolas’ words finally pushing him over the edge. He shivered and came in his pyjamas, soiling them and the oven glove that covered Legolas’ adventurous hand. 

Legolas came seconds later, Thranduil’s climax sending him into oblivion. Just knowing that he had caused such a reaction from the piemaker made his heart feel giddy and his head feel fuzzy. He knew he was in way too deep with a man who he could never touch, but at that moment he didn’t care. He lost himself in the bliss of his release, his hand slowing on himself as he came down from his high.

Legolas smiled softly as he opened his eyes. If Thranduil was dishevelled before, he was now an absolute mess. His eyes were glassy with receding pleasure and his hair was completely mussed to one side. He looked gorgeous, and Legolas half-heartedly drew back his hand, wanting to slide his fingers through Thranduil’s blonde mane and run his lips over his flushed skin. He ached to be held in Thranduil’s arms. It was torture to not be able to show his affection.

The piemaker was still breathing heavily when Legolas drew back from him, exposing the darkened wet patch on the front of his pyjama bottoms. He should have been embarrassed at the sight of his soiled self, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at that moment; he was more entranced by the sight of a very satiated Legolas. The young blonde had a high flush on the tips of his cheekbones and the points of his ears. His eyes were a few shades darker than they normally were and his lips were bitten red by his own clenching teeth. He looked utterly debauched and Thranduil found that he liked it quite a bit more than he should. 

Legolas seemed to regain some of his self-awareness then, realising what he’d just done. He blushed deeply and looked down to his hands. He blinked at the oven glove for a few seconds before he nervously lifted his eyes to meet Thranduil’s.

“I think I should probably throw this away,” Legolas huffed out. There was a tiny, inconspicuous drop of moisture on the edge of the glove. Thranduil gasped out a small laugh, before he shifted uncomfortably. Legolas glanced to his and Thranduil’s soiled pants. “We need to shower, you go first and I’ll keep the pancakes warm.”

Thranduil ached to kiss Legolas’ darkened lips. He pined for Legolas’ touch constantly, but it seemed somehow worse that he could not show affection to him after he had rubbed him off. It seemed dirty and wrong that he could not take the smaller blonde in his arms and worship his lips with his own. He could not even run a hand down his cheek and cup his face, could not press a chaste kiss to his forehead, could not whisper how much he had fallen in love with him in one of his oddly shaped ears, and he could not thread their fingers together and play with the ends of Legolas’ hair as they bathed in the afterglow of their pleasure. It was utter torture.

“Kiss me,” Thranduil said abruptly and Legolas turned, having stood up to go back into the kitchen. “Please, kiss me.”

Legolas considered the odd expression on Thranduil’s face for a moment, before he slid off the oven glove and reached into the drawer of the bedside table that separated their two beds. He pulled out a pre-prepared square of plastic wrap and held it at the edges, delicately leaning down and pressing it and his lips against Thranduil’s mouth. It was wonderful, and Legolas’ heart fluttered as their hot mouths pressed against one another. Thranduil sighed in both pleasure and frustration. He revelled in the pressure and the heat that he felt from Legolas, but it was not enough. He wanted to taste him and to feel his tongue slide against his own. He wanted to lose himself in Legolas, and it wasn’t enough. 

Legolas pulled away slowly, lowering the plastic with a bitter expression on his face. While it was always amazing to be so close to the beautiful piemaker, Legolas wished that he could claim Thranduil’s mouth properly. He wished he could show the man how much he truly desired him. The two blondes gazed at each other for a while before Legolas broke eye contact, grabbing the oven-glove to dispose of. Perhaps it had been wrong of him to initiate such an act with Thranduil? Perhaps it had only made their relationship seem more insufficient?

“You’d better get ready, you’ve been dodging that private investigator for long enough, he’s probably already waiting downstairs” Legolas said, looking to his toes before hurrying back into the kitchen. Thranduil opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Legolas was gone too quickly. He watched him retreat sadly, a frown etched into his brow. 

Thranduil sighed and ran a hand through his hair before he left his bed for the warm embrace of the shower. He spent longer than he should have under the water, letting the droplets of lukewarm liquid pound against his skin. He washed his body and his hair absently, his mind racing. Legolas had been living with him for almost a month and, while he had enjoyed every minute of the gorgeous young man’s company, it was when he was alone that his frustrated thoughts clawed at him. 

He was frustrated at the fact that he could not touch Legolas; that he could not kiss and caress and make love to him. He was frustrated that they could not hold one another and fall asleep against one another; that he could not shower him with all the affection and love he deserved. He was frustrated that he could not give him the life he deserved and that he could not be the man to bring him the joy he so obviously wanted. It frustrated him beyond measure to think that Legolas would eventually get bored with their arrangement and disappear, leaving Thranduil with a broken heart and unable to pick himself up from the blow of losing Legolas. 

Even though Legolas seemed happy enough, and had taken to life with Thranduil exceptionally well, the piemaker was still wracked with insecurity. They’d spent hours together in The Pie Hole, with Thranduil teaching Legolas all he knew about pie making. It had been amazing for Thranduil, who was so used to being alone, to get along with someone so thoroughly. It seemed as though he and Legolas were a perfect fit; while he was stoic and reserved, Legolas was friendly and adventurous, and they brought out the best in one another. Even Olive had commented on how well they got on, especially noting how Legolas had softened some of Thranduil’s more prickly edges. 

When Legolas wasn’t in the kitchen, he’d taken to joining Olive in serving pies in the dining area. He was a huge hit with The Pie Hole’s patrons, his friendly demeanour and good looks charming everyone, including many flirty customers. Thranduil had had to restrain his jealousy on many occasions, knowing that he could never truly compete with someone Legolas could actually touch. No matter their bond, no matter how much Thranduil had fallen for the beautiful young man, the fact remained that Legolas could turn around in an instant and leave Thranduil with a broken soul. It tortured the piemaker every single day.

Thranduil had also conveniently pushed from his mind the fact that he had not yet revealed all about his ability to Legolas. He should have mentioned everything when he’d explained at the beginning of their relationship. Now that he’d avoided it for so long he felt nervous about brining it up. How would Legolas react to probably the most important piece of news about his newfound life? He didn’t want to think how the young man would take the fact that he was very probably immortal or, at the very least, his aging had been slowed down considerably. The fact that he’d, in effect, lied by omission to Legolas tore little chunks out of Thranduil’s heart every day. It made him nervous and on edge and wary and jealous and scared of Legolas’ rejection. Not only was being denied Legolas’ touch killing Thranduil, his guilt was eating away at him from the inside out. 

Thranduil was still lost in his thoughts about Legolas when he entered the kitchen, fully dressed in his usual t-shirt, trousers and converse and towelling his long blonde hair dry absently. He stopped dead when he noticed that Legolas had completely taken over the kitchen table with shopping bags.

“Legolas?” he asked, and the young blonde turned from the stove, stopping his stirring of a sticky substance in a small pot. Thranduil’s eyes widened when he saw what was in the bags.

Legolas smiled and blushed, “I went down to the store before you woke up. I bought all the plastic wrap they had. I’m pretty sure the guy who was at the cash register thinks I’m a serial killer.”

There must have been more than one hundred rolls of plastic wrap on his kitchen table. Thranduil looked at Legolas with an expression that was halfway between shock and amusement. It was clear that Legolas had decided to stick around for some time, going by the shear volume of plastic wrap he had seen fit to hoard. Thranduil’s expression morphed into a sad smile, his guilt clawing away at his heart once more. 

Legolas, noticing the look of pain on Thranduil face, frowned, “What’s the matter? Is it because I… I shouldn’t have done it without talking to you first, I’m sorry.” Legolas had begun to ramble, as Thranduil noticed he always did when he was nervous. The piemaker shook his head sadly and tried to give Legolas a reassuring smile. The look on Legolas’ face told Thranduil he’d failed.

“Please, I’m sorry… I wont do anything like that again,” Legolas had abandoned the stove, clutching his hands together and furrowing his brow.

Thranduil sighed, “It’s not that Legolas, I really… I really enjoyed what you did. I probably enjoyed it too much.” Legolas smiled at Thranduil’s words, blushing slightly. He’d enjoyed it also. “It’s just that I…” Thranduil’s words caught in his throat. He knew he had to tell Legolas; he wasn’t stupid and would figure it out by himself given time. 

Legolas frowned in worry and he looked at Thranduil intently, trying to figure out what was torturing his beautiful piemaker. A lock of Thranduil’s damp hair had fallen across one of his blue eyes and Legolas longed to brush it away and tuck it behind his ear. His hand itched to perform such an act. Legolas bit his lip and turned. He grabbed the first roll of plastic wrap he saw and ripped a piece off of it. 

Thranduil was looking at him curiously when he turned back around. Legolas smiled and walked up as close to Thranduil as he dared, placing the plastic wrap against his palm. Slowly and infinitely carefully, Legolas reached up, brushing back the wisp of hair that had caught his attention. Thranduil closed his eyes and sighed, leaning in to the touch as Legolas brushed his hair back out of his face and tucked it behind one of his pointy ears. It was such a simple, tender act, that Thranduil felt tears begin to well behind his eyes. 

When he opened his eyes once more, he saw the questioning look on Legolas’ face and he knew the time had come to reveal what had been eating away at him. Legolas deserved to know what Thranduil had turned him in to, even if it meant taking the risk that Legolas would never want to set eyes on him again.


	5. I Can't Do This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas does not take the news of his immortality as well as Thranduil hoped he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***pokes head up from behind a very large shield***
> 
> Hello, here's the next chapter. Thanks for the lovely comments and the great response that I've had on Tumblr. It was quite unexpected and very lovely! <3
> 
> I am [plotbunniesincolour](http://plotbunniesincolour.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, if you'd like to take a look at some of the fanart that I do. I am also open for requests if you want a piece of art for your fan fic, or if you'd just like something random. The fandoms that I will make art can be found here: [Fandoms](http://plotbunniesincolour.tumblr.com/fandoms)  
> It's free, so throw me some ideas :)
> 
> I will be starting to post my new AU on Thursday (1st October 2015). It will be quite an angsty 'soulmates' piece which I hope you'll enjoy.
> 
> The final two chapters of Sweet as Pie will be posted on Monday 28th September 2015, and Friday 2nd October 2015.
> 
> _This is more angst ridden than I intended and involves Legolas standing on the edge of a roof, take appropriate action if that makes you unhappy._

[](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/loveactuallyfan91/media/SAP%20ch5_zpsu90gqozn.jpg.html)

“Legolas! Legolas… get down from there!” Thranduil shouted over the fierce wind that had whipped up around The Pie Hole.

Legolas turned slightly, glancing to Thranduil out of the corner of his eye, “What would even happen if I jumped? I’m dead already… I can’t die again.”

“Legolas!”

Legolas looked down to the street. He was standing on the roof of the apartment building that was built over The Pie Hole. Legolas was right on the edge of one of the protrusions of the architecture. He’d come up to the roof to think, to get away from Thranduil and clear his head. 

“Legolas, for god’s sake… get down from there!” Thranduil edged forward, not wanting to startle Legolas but trying to get close enough to grab him should he fall. He spied some discarded gardening gloves tossed in a corner and he hurriedly swiped them, pulling them on to his hands while Legolas stared down at the street. They were worn and had a few holes, but Thranduil would use anything that may provide some protection should he have to touch Legolas.

“Legolas, please, why are you up there?” Thranduil had moved close enough to touch Legolas and he reached out a gloved hand to the shivering blonde.

Legolas glanced down to the offered hand and then met Thranduil’s gaze with sad eyes. Thranduil blinked in surprise at the utter desolation that he saw. Legolas was indeed more affected than he’d originally thought. Despite his protestations of being fine and just needing some time and space, Thranduil had known deep down that Legolas had taken the news badly. He’d seen it in Legolas’ eyes when he’d told him of his very probable immortality. He’d seen a shadow fall across the young man’s face that he knew would never be lifted.

When Thranduil had explained what his un-deading touch had done to Legolas, the young blonde had sat and taken the news wordlessly. Thranduil had repeatedly asked if Legolas was okay, stalling his meeting with Emerson Cod for as long as possible to make sure Legolas was alright. Eventually, Legolas had pushed him out of the door to their apartment, assuring Thranduil that he was fine. 

Thranduil had grudgingly left the apartment, wandering down to The Pie Hole with a mind that was distracted by thoughts of Legolas. It was normal for him to be distracted by Legolas, but it was usually because he couldn’t get the way that Legolas’ brow twitched when he was confused out of his mind. Quite a few times he’d been preoccupied with the way Legolas bit his bottom lip and smiled when he was embarrassed. But this time was different, Thranduil was distracted by the tortured look he’d seen in Legolas’ blue eyes.

He hadn’t reacted at all to the piemaker’s confession; he’d just stared at Thranduil while his mind processed the news that he was very probably immortal. It bothered the piemaker’s mind all through his much-delayed meeting with the private investigator. He knew that Emerson was suspicious of him, and his distracted attitude had no doubt only deepened this suspicion. 

The private investigator had droned on about the suspicious nature of Banoffee-pie man’s death and how the family were offering a reward for answers ever since the coroner had failed to find a cause of death past his professional opinion that ‘he just dropped dead’. Thranduil’s eyes had kept darting to the door of The Pie Hole, anxious to see Legolas. He could tell that Emerson found his behaviour odd, and highly suspicious, yet he couldn’t help himself. 

He needed to wrap Legolas in his arms and bury his head in the crook of his neck. He needed to feel his lithe body against his and stroke his hand through his golden hair. He needed to brush his lips against Legolas’ ear and whisper that it would be okay, that they could be happy together, no matter what happened. But he could do none of those things, and it broke his heart.

When Legolas did eventually enter The Pie Hole, Thranduil was still being interrogated by Emerson; the private investigator unwilling to let go of his only promising lead. Legolas did not meet Thranduil’s eyes as he darted through the dining area and set about preparing the kitchen for the day of baking. He’d become quite adept at making pastry and pie fillings, and he enjoyed the methodical approach to baking. 

Thranduil had kept one eye on Legolas as he tried to get rid of Emerson. He kept repeating his story, never wavering from the fact that he did not know what had happened, in the hope that Emerson would become either convinced or bored and would leave. Unfortunately the investigator was dogged in his approach, and Thranduil had to spend another hour convincing him that he had seen and heard nothing that would be of any use. Emerson had thrown the piemaker and his beautiful blonde boyfriend a suspicious glare before he had departed The Pie Hole, deciding that the only course of action left to him would be to stake out Thranduil and Legolas in the hope that they would reveal something.

Thranduil had slunk into the kitchen of The Pie Hole awkwardly, watching Legolas heap spoonfuls of pie filling into crusts. He watched silently for a few moments, considering the way that Legolas resolutely avoided his gaze and focused all of his attention on the pies.

“Legolas,” Thranduil had begun, but Legolas had shaken his head.

“Just give me some time to process this,” Legolas had replied, his eyes never meeting Thranduil’s. 

“But-”

“Just leave me here, take the day off. I can handle it.” Legolas had been short and to the point, and Thranduil could hear something bubbling below the surface in his voice. He could hear the pain clearly enough, but there was something more; something that made Thranduil nervous. Legolas had never been curt with him before, even when he’d scared him half to death with the reawakening of his hospital roommate. Perhaps he could have broken the news in a more gentle way? Perhaps he should have told him from the beginning? Perhaps he should never have told him at all?

He had turned from the kitchen sadly, unsure of what to do with himself while Legolas processed his confession. He’d never been one to venture out too much, so the only reasonable place to lay low for the day was his apartment. He supposed that it wasn’t a very exciting choice, but the space reminded him of Legolas and their happy memories, and he needed some happiness at that moment.

Thranduil had spent much of the day brooding alone in his apartment. He’d neatly arranged all the plastic wrap Legolas had hoarded, placing a few rolls on their bedside table just in case. He’d decimated all the left over pancakes Legolas had made. He’d started reading at least ten different books, getting bored with each one and switching to another, his mind always half occupied with Legolas. Stress organising, stress eating and stress reading could not take Thranduil’s thoughts away from his beautiful Legolas, and he ended up trying to take a stress nap, sadly to no avail.

When Legolas had finally returned to their apartment, it was long past closing time at The Pie Hole. He’d tried to sneak in, assuming Thranduil would be asleep. Instead, he had found a very awake piemaker, tucked into his bed awaiting Legolas’ return. Legolas had stood awkwardly in their bedroom doorway as Thranduil stared at him, wondering if he should question him about what he was thinking.

“I need more time,” Legolas had said, fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie. “I think I should sleep on the couch.” 

Thranduil’s face had immediately faltered and Legolas saw the incredible pain that he had inflicted on the piemaker. Thranduil tried to smile, he tried to put on a brave face for Legolas, but it was as unconvincing as his words were. “Whatever you want, Legolas.”

Guilt flooded through Legolas as he witnessed Thranduil’s hurt. The piemaker’s pain was his also, and his heart ached to be near him. He knew he shouldn’t, but he wanted to kiss Thranduil goodnight, as they always did. He wanted to feel his lips so badly; not covered in plastic, but his bare skin. He wanted to crawl into bed with Thranduil and slide under the duvet with him. He longed to tangle their legs together and nuzzle into Thranduil’s chest. He ached to whispered goodnight against the shell of the piemaker’s ear as they fell asleep in each other’s arms. The fact that he could never do such things tore him apart.

Legolas was just about to turn and make himself comfortable on the couch when Thranduil’s whispered voice had stopped him, “Will you kiss me?”

He knew he absolutely should not. It would send Thranduil mixed signals, and would make his decision all the more difficult to make. But he couldn’t resist the hushed way that Thranduil had asked him. He couldn’t reject such a sweet request, even when he knew it would hurt him to do so.

Legolas sighed heavily as he walked into the room, Thranduil already had a piece of plastic wrap clutched in his hand, and the fact that he had been waiting up for Legolas’ kiss constricted Legolas’ heart with intermingled sadness and love. It was torture and bliss all at once.

The kiss was much the same. Thranduil held the plastic to his lips, sighing gently when Legolas pressed their mouths together. Legolas lost himself for a moment. He tried to forget his confusion and his pain and, just for one shining moment, he was happy to be so near to Thranduil. It was over quickly, and Legolas felt the immediate, crushing loss of parting from the piemaker. Such awful pain always tempered his happiness with Thranduil, and it had started to wear him down. Thranduil had watched Legolas leave the room with wetness beginning to glisten in his eyes. 

Legolas had been gone when Thranduil had awoken the next day. He’d looked for him, unsure of where Legolas would have gone on a Saturday morning. The Pie Hole had been deserted, and some of the places that they had visited in town were devoid of Legolas. Thranduil had nearly lost his mind in the search, returning to his apartment in a state of panic. He’d tried to call Legolas multiple times during the day, yet he’d received his answering machine each time. He understood that Legolas needed space, but all he wanted was to know that he was safe. 

It was late in the day, and the weather had taken a stormy turn, when Thranduil had thought of one last place that Legolas might have been. They’d spent a romantic afternoon on the roof a few weeks back, and Legolas had said that he loved the view, that it gave him clarity. Perhaps he was there?

Thranduil’s heart had almost stopped when he’d seen that Legolas was standing on the edge of the building, looking down to the street as if he may jump. That was when he’d tried to talk him down, not knowing how serious he was about what he seemed to be doing. He had held out his hand, covered in an old glove, desperate for Legolas to take it and to step away from the edge. 

Thranduil’s heart began to pound as Legolas looked down to his hand, his forehead creased in pain. He couldn’t lose his Legolas.

Legolas took the offered hand gingerly, clasping at the dirty glove that Thranduil wore as he stepped down from the ledge that he was perched on. Thranduil let go of him as soon as he was safely out of harms way and Legolas immediately missed the contact, even if they were cruelly separated by fabric. 

Thranduil swallowed hard and looked to his toes, glad that Legolas was out of danger but apprehensive about what he may now say. He could see the same tortured look in Legolas’ eyes that he had seen when he’d told him about his immortality, and it scared him. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” Thranduil said quickly, looking up into Legolas’ eyes pleadingly. He couldn’t lose him now, not when he’d become so attached to him. Not when he’d been happy for the first time in years. “I just didn’t know how to broach the topic once I’d not told you the day you came back to The Pie Hole. I didn’t know how you’d take it and I was too scared to lose you.”

Legolas listened to Thranduil, his face creased in sadness. He wasn’t angry, he didn’t feel betrayed; he was consumed by a soul-crushing sadness. Everything that he thought he could put from his mind was weighing him down, and the added information of him being immortal had finally forced him to confront his feelings. 

“I can’t touch you,” Legolas said, his bottom lip quivering, “Even though I crave your touch and I ache to feel you, I can’t.”

Thranduil’s forehead crinkled in confusion.

“I killed someone,” Legolas continued, “Even though it was accidental, that man had to die for me to stay alive.”

Thranduil’s confusion deepened and he made to say something but Legolas interrupted him.

“I’m now probably immortal, or at the very least I age very slowly,” Legolas closed his eyes, this was probably the worst part, “And if we stay together, I will have to watch you grow old and die.”

Thranduil swallowed hard.

“I don’t think that I can live with all of that. I can’t live with the guilt of killing someone, the torture of not being able to touch you and the curse of losing you in such a way.” Legolas felt the first of many tears slide down his cheek. It felt icy on his over-warm skin.

“Legolas, none of this is your fault,” Thranduil said, stepping forwards, getting as close as he dared to Legolas.

“I know. I know it’s not. But… the worst part about this is not any of those things,” Legolas paused to take a deep breath. This had been torturing him the entire day. “I realise that I am keeping you from being happy.”

Thranduil blinked a few times. How could Legolas think that? He had not been happier in his entire life than when he was with the beautiful blonde. He had never felt such love for anyone or anything. 

“I can’t give you what you want. I can’t touch you, I can’t hold you, and I can’t make love to you. I’ll stay this way forever and you will grow older. You deserve someone who can love you in the way you deserve, someone who you can hold at night and who can comfort you when you’re sad. We live in constant fear of you killing me by accident, and it won’t bring us any happiness.” Legolas battled his way through his words, more and more tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t hold them back anymore, and he didn’t want to.

“I thought about moving away, allowing you to find someone else. But you would haunt me. Not being with you would torture me for the rest of my life, however long that ends up being.”

“Legolas, please… you’re not preventing me from being happy. You are my happiness.” Thranduil didn’t know what to do with himself. All he wanted was to throw his arms around Legolas and tell him not to leave. He wanted to hold him forever.

“I can’t leave you, it would break me. So there’s only one option left to us,” Legolas’ voice broke midway through his sentence. He’d spent two days agonising over this decision, he knew it was the right thing to do.

Thranduil’s eyes flared wide in shock and he stepped forwards; unthinkingly reach up to cup Legolas’ face in his hands. The gloves felt rough on Legolas’ cheeks, yet he nuzzled weakly into Thranduil’s touch. 

“Please don’t, you can’t want me to do that,” Thranduil begged, he didn’t know if he had it in him. He didn’t think he could willingly take Legolas’ life. 

“I can’t do this, Thranduil,” Legolas said, his sad eyes glistening with tears that leaked from the creases of his eyes and soaked the gloves that Thranduil was wearing. The piemaker felt tears of his own begin to slide down his cheeks.

“Legolas,” Thranduil whispered, shaking his head in an effort to prevent Legolas from saying what Thranduil knew was coming.

“It’s killing me. It’s killing you. We’re torturing ourselves,” Legolas gasped out as Thranduil clutched his face tighter through the gloves.

“We’ll… we’ll buy more plastic wrap,” Thranduil tried pathetically. It was futile; Legolas had obviously made up his mind. The piemaker was only trying to delay the inevitable for a few more seconds, he wanted to give his heart a few more moments to steel itself for the pain that Legolas would inflict on it. “I’ll buy all the plastic wrap in the world for you.”

Despite himself, Thranduil’s words brought a smile to Legolas’ face. He truly loved the piemaker, with all his heart and soul; he just wished he could show him exactly how much. It was a cruel fate that he’d been dealt; finally meeting his soulmate only to never be allowed to touch him. It was slow, unending torture that Legolas could no longer live with, especially if it meant that his life would be unending. 

“I don’t want to live forever, I don’t want to have to watch everyone I love die.”

“Don’t… please…”

“We shouldn’t have let this go on for as long as it has. It has only delayed the inevitable, and now…” Legolas took a huge breath, steadying his shaky voice. Now that he’d fallen in love with Thranduil, it killed him to say the words, “…now I don’t think I can let you go. But I must, for your sake and for mine.”

“Legolas-”

“I don’t want to watch you grow old without me, I couldn’t bear not doing that with you.”

“Legolas, please… don’t do this to me.”

“We need to stop this now. I can’t deny you the possibility of finding some one who can touch you and love you in the way you deserve. I can’t deny you your happiness.”

Thranduil’s brow creased and he looked downwards, unable to see clearly through his teary eyes.

“I can’t take it any longer,” Legolas said sadly, his eyes fluttering closed and a lonely, sad tear worming its way down his cheek. “I love you, but I can’t stand this any more.” It probably wasn’t the best way to tell Thranduil that he loved him for the first time, but his words were nothing but the truth. 

Thranduil bit back a sob that threatened to come flooding out of his mouth.

“You need to kill me.”


	6. Like Sleeping Beauty in Reverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas and Thranduil prepare for what lies ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***smiles***
> 
> This is the second to last chapter, the last one will be posted on Friday. I hope you enjoy this and the artwork :) Thanks for all your comments and the lovely support, here and on Tumblr. I didn't realise how many people were languishing on the Thrandolas ship. O.O
> 
> My new soulmates AU will be entitled 'A Violet Sky', and will be posted on Thursday morning. If you want a teaser of how it will feel, listen to this: [Apparat - A Violent Sky](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AwWXTByxJyI)
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> <3

[](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/loveactuallyfan91/media/SAP%20Chapter%206%20sm_zpswoqogde4.jpg.html)

“Do you really want to do this? Like this?” Thranduil and Legolas were both standing in the living room of their apartment. Both of their eyes were fixed on the mahogany coffin that was currently sprawled across the coffee table. 

Legolas raised an eyebrow and turned to look at the piemaker, “What other way do you suggest?”

Thranduil shrugged and kept his eyes on the coffin he’d ‘procured’ for Legolas, “I don’t know, how about not doing it at all?”

Legolas sighed, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Despite Thranduil’s heartbreak at what Legolas had decided, the piemaker had made every effort to get Legolas what he said he wanted for his death. He’d gone to great lengths to get Legolas the best coffin he could possibly find.

“What did you tell them when they asked what it was for?” Legolas asked, biting his bottom lip.

Thranduil’s eyes widened at the memory, “I told them it was for a sex game.” It was highly suspicious to buy a coffin, and he’d had to make up an excuse that no one would ask to be elaborated on. 

Legolas’ eyebrows shot up and a startled laugh escaped his mouth. Thranduil smiled sadly and let out a low, rumbling chuckle, his eyes locking with Legolas’. 

“I really wish it was for a sex game,” Legolas sighed, his fingers twitching. They always twitched when he wanted to touch Thranduil, and god did he want to touch him at that moment. He wanted to touch him all the time. “Maybe… just maybe, you didn’t bring me back to life? Maybe you’ll touch me and I’ll still be alive. Maybe we’ll grow old together after all?” Legolas tried to keep the sadness out of his voice. 

Thranduil looked to the beautiful young man with struggling hope, consumed at the frayed edges with desolation. Soon he would be alone again, but Legolas seemed to take comfort in the fact that there was still a tiny ounce of hope left. He could not find it within himself to quash such a hope. 

“What will be the first thing you do? If you’re still alive?” Thranduil smiled and swiped away the tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes.

Legolas’ face immediately broke into a huge grin and he said, “I will kiss you until we both pass out from oxygen deprivation.”

Thranduil couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his face. Despite his tears, that did sound utterly perfect.

“And then I’ll make love to you right in this stupid coffin.”

Thranduil blushed and looked down. While the coffin sounded less than romantic, the thought of making love to Legolas sent his stomach into a flurry. From the times that he had touched Legolas, he imagined that having the length of their naked bodies pressed together may set his skin on fire. Thranduil felt a steady blush begin to creep up his cheeks as his mind wandered. His shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts away; he had to keep his mind focused on their task.

“How do you want me to do it?” Thranduil said softly, keeping his eyes firmly on the coffin and nowhere near intersecting Legolas’ gaze.

“What do you mean?” Legolas asked, running one of his hands over the lid of his coffin.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” Thranduil elaborated, watching Legolas’ strong hand glide over the polished wood.

Legolas paused for a few moments, considering Thranduil’s question, before a tiny smile tugged at his lips as he said, “I want you to kiss me, like sleeping beauty in reverse.”

Thranduil lifted his eyes to look at Legolas, his heart languishing in a mix of love for the young blonde and sadness at the thought of returning home in the morning without him. Thranduil gave a small nod and tried to mask his sorrow. He knew that Legolas was only trying to save him from the torture and the hurt, yet it only caused him to love the young blonde more.

“I love you, you know that?” Thranduil said suddenly, and Legolas’ eyes widened. They hadn’t spoken of love since he’d confessed his feelings for Thranduil on the rooftop a few days ago. In fact, they’d been rather business-like when they were around one another; planning and organising and readying themselves. Legolas had been very specific about what he wanted. 

“I know,” Legolas said quietly, his brow furrowing, “and I love you.”

Thranduil gave a twitched smile, before he nodded a few times and ran a hand through his hair nervously. “Is there anything I can say or do to make you reconsider this?”

Legolas looked to the coffin that was resting on the coffee table and slipped his hand from its elegant surface. He slowly turned to Thranduil, who was staring at him with wide, glistening eyes. “No.”  


§§§

“Okay… okay, ouch!.... okay, right there…” Thranduil huffed as they slipped the coffin into the hearse that he’d hired; they could absolutely not fit it into his tiny car. Legolas sighed and leaned against the side of the black vehicle as Thranduil shut the boot carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible. It was just gone two o’clock in the morning and Thranduil was nervous that his neighbours may see them load a coffin in to a hearse at a suspicious hour and call the authorities.

“Okay, let’s go,” Thranduil said after a few moments. They both slipped into the hearse, Legolas in the passenger seat and Thranduil driving. At least if they were stopped they could only be accused of hauling around an empty coffin. 

Thranduil’s eyes slipped to Legolas, watching as he tugged on the black tie around his neck. Since he had no suit of his own, he’d ‘borrowed’ Thranduil’s. It was too large for him and it gaped at the lapels and the sleeves slipped way past his wrists. He couldn’t let Legolas be buried in his hoodie and jeans, it just didn’t seem right to send him off in such attire. Thranduil had pestered him to wear his suit, eventually convincing Legolas by saying that it would make him exceptionally happy to see Legolas in his clothes. 

Legolas hated suits, and he didn’t think that being buried in one really represented his life at all, but he had crumbled when Thranduil had insisted; he would do anything to make his piemaker happy. Especially when he was about to make him so sad. Legolas found that he liked Thranduil’s suit; it was plain and black and way too big for him, but it smelled of Thranduil and he loved being surrounded by the piemaker’s scent. He’d gotten quite used to Thranduil’s natural scent while he’d lived with him, yet wearing his clothes gave Legolas a level of intimacy that soothed his aching heart as he sat alongside Thranduil in the hearse. 

Thranduil’s eyes were fixed to the road for the duration of their journey. He was unwilling to look at Legolas; afraid he would not be able to keep his raging emotions in check. He couldn’t believe that these were the last few hours he’d ever spend with the beautiful young blonde.

Legolas stole glances at Thranduil every few minutes, worried at the piemaker’s lack of emotion and stoic demeanour. He couldn’t tell how Thranduil was faring, and he longed to rest his hand on the piemaker’s as a comfort. Thranduil’s face was hollowed and tinted strangely by the shadows as he drove, the writhing shadows mirroring his own internal turmoil.

As they ventured further away form the city, the street lights became fewer and the only light that lit their journey was that of the full moon. Neither of the two blondes noticed that a car was following them, keeping a safe distance behind the hearse. They were too wrapped up in their morose thoughts to notice Emerson Cod, private detective, peering suspiciously over his steering wheel as he tailed them. Where could the two blondes be heading with an empty coffin at two in the morning?

Eventually, after driving much slower than he normally did, Thranduil pulled the hearse up to the spot that they had chosen. Legolas had insisted that he should be buried in a cemetery, as it was the only place guaranteed not to be disturbed by building work as the years passed. What better place for a dead body than a cemetery? 

Legolas could not bear the thought of Thranduil getting in to trouble for his disappearance or being accused of murdering him, so they had planned his death meticulously. Legolas had chosen the cemetery and the spot he wished to be buried. It was under a large oak tree; close enough to the tree to not be used as a grave plot and far enough away so as to avoid its root system. He’d also made it known that he would be leaving, giving the excuse that he had to tend to his poor dying mother back at home. In reality he had no family, he had no one who would miss him. In time, they had agreed that Thranduil would tell those around him who may become suspicious that he and Legolas had broken up because of the distance affecting their relationship. It was painfully ironic, but was a solid, plausible explanation for his disappearance. 

Thranduil had procured the coffin and the hearse, and they had set out in the dead of night with an empty coffin and two spades. They had allowed for a solid few hours of digging before the sun rose. Legolas wanted to see one more sunrise with Thranduil by his side before his life was taken from him. Legolas could see that their planning and preparing tortured Thranduil, yet the piemaker made his every request come true without one word of complaint. Legolas could not miss the heart wrenching pain that he could see in Thranduil’s eyes, and he took solace in the fact that soon Thranduil would be free of him and could find someone to make him happy.

Legolas and Thranduil both sat in the hearse for a few moments when Thranduil had turned the engine off. They let the silence of the cemetery flood through the space between them, both unwilling to leave the car, knowing what it would mean. Legolas caught his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down hard as tears began to well behind his eyes. He didn’t dare look at the piemaker, knowing that seeing his face would release the floodgates of tears he was battling to keep closed.

“We can just turn around and go home,” Thranduil’s weak voice filled the air, ringing hollow around Legolas’ ears. “We can forget about this and I can take you home and make you pancakes and kiss you through plastic wrap and we can watch old movies until we both fall asleep.”

Legolas’ eyes fluttered closed as the first few tears began to burn hot trails down his cheeks. Thranduil turned to him, his eyes wide and pleading. 

“We can be so happy, I don’t need anything more than you,” Thranduil said, his hand twitching on the steering wheel. He longed to pull Legolas into a hug and brush his tears away. “Please.”

Legolas let Thranduil’s words hang in the air for a few moments, before he sniffed and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes they were filled with a resolute determination that made Thranduil’s heart drop. He had not changed his mind. Legolas reached for the door handle and exited the hearse quickly, gasping as his tear stained face hit the cold night air. His breath unfurled before him in great swirling eddies and he clutched the suit jacket closer to himself and shivered. He quickly made his way around the hearse, pulling the spades out of the boot. He held one out to Thranduil, who had reluctantly stepped out of the car, as he passed him. The piemaker looked down to the tool in his hand sadly before he followed Legolas to the place he had chosen. 

Neither blonde noticed the car of Emerson Cod pulling up a fair distance away. Both distracted by the task at hand.

It took longer to dig a grave big enough for the coffin than Thranduil had expected, even with the two of them working simultaneously. It was hard work, yet he was grateful for the distraction of physical labour. It gave him some respite from his whirring mind, which seemed to enjoy torturing him. The sky was just starting to lighten when they finally managed to manoeuvre the coffin in to the hole they’d dug. It wasn’t quite as deep as Thranduil would have liked, but it was more than adequate. 

Legolas threw his spade down in the space between his coffin and the side of the hole, and turned to Thranduil, his face tinted red from the exertion of digging his own grave. He’d shed his jacket and had rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows. Thranduil managed a weak smile. He knew that they’d have to move quickly so as to allow him time to fill in the hole once he’d killed Legolas. Oh god, his heart clenched, he was actually going to have to do it - he was actually going to kill him.

“I guess this is it,” Legolas breathed, rolling his sleeves back down and shrugging his discarded jacket back on to his shoulders. Thranduil gulped and padded over to him, looking gloomily at his crooked tie. Legolas looked up at him with teary eyes as Thranduil straightened his black tie, both not caring how close they got to one another. Thranduil’s fingers were mere millimetres from his neck, yet what would it matter? His grave was dug and his coffin was ready. Legolas took what little joy he could in Thranduil’s tender, loving act. 

Thranduil did not move back once the tie was back in place, instead he traced his eyes over Legolas’ features, even more beautiful when highlighted by the first few rays of the morning sun. He was memorising the way Legolas’ eyebrows knit together when he was sad or confused or embarrassed, the way that his lips twitched upwards whenever Thranduil was near him, and the way his irises sparkled with life when he looked into the piemaker’s eyes. 

Legolas sniffed loudly and he took a step back, looking down at the coffin. He sucked in a large breath, which was meant to steady his racing heart, and he lowered himself down next to his coffin. He opened the lid slowly, the whole situation seeming insane to him all of a sudden. He’d dug his own grave and was about to climb into his own coffin, no one was meant to do such a thing. 

Thranduil watched with a resigned melancholy as Legolas lay down on the white silk lining of the coffin. A sad smile pulled at his mouth as Legolas slotted his stuffed moose under one arm. He’d absolutely insisted that the gift Thranduil had given him should be buried with him. He had said that it was the next best thing if he couldn’t have Thranduil in his arms, and he wanted to hold it forever in death.

Legolas looked up to Thranduil expectantly, their eyes locking in the dawn light. Thranduil brushed away the rouge tear that had slid down his cheek, before he lowered himself into Legolas’ grave, half-kneeling half-sitting on the side of the coffin. Despite the slight sheen of sweat that still lingered on Legolas’ brow from the exertion of digging, he looked absolutely perfect. The sweat made his pale skin glow and the white silk around him made him seem an ethereal vision. He certainly was a beauty, though Thranduil did not want to send him to sleep.

Legolas lips trembled as tears began to flow unbidden down his cheeks and Thranduil had to clench his jaw to prevent himself from sobbing violently. 

“I will miss you every moment of every minute of every day, until I join you,” Thranduil said slowly, his words measured and his voice quivering. He was surprised he could even get words out of his mouth. Little did Legolas know that it would not be long until Thranduil joined him, wherever he was going.

Legolas blinked up at the piemaker, his vision blurry through his tears, and clutched at his moose tightly. “Forget about me,” Legolas managed.

“Can’t. It’s impossible,” Legolas shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips.

Legolas had begun to shake, fear gripping hold of him at what unknown things lay ahead of him. He’d never contemplated death very much before meeting Thranduil, thinking it a far away prospect. Yet now he was moments away from his death, and all he could think of was Thranduil’s lips. If he were to die by anything, the piemaker’s lips would be his first choice. In a sense he was lucky, he’d get to feel Thranduil’s lips on his at least once before he died. 

“Do it,” Legolas said softly, looking up to Thranduil with wide, scared eyes. Tears were still leaking unashamedly from both of his eyes, trickling down the sides of his face and wetting the lobes of his ears. “Do it, please. End this torture.”

Thranduil scrunched his eyes shut, pain lancing through the pieces of his shattered heart. He slipped his hand into his pocket, gently brushing the tips of his fingers against the cold metal of the gun that rested there. During his procurement of a coffin for Legolas, he’d purchased himself a firearm. He’d fallen too deeply in love with Legolas to be able to survive without him. Legolas thought he was giving him the chance to find someone new and to be happy, but he knew he could never find happiness without the beautiful blonde. At least he would not have to endure the torture of being without Legolas for very long. 

When Thranduil opened his eyes, they were filled with unshed wetness and unbearable pain. Legolas swallowed hard and shut his eyes, waiting for the kiss. Thranduil clenched his jaw hard, the muscles in his cheek rippling, before he let out a huge breath and leaned down. He stared down at the beautiful young blonde, taking in the enchanting way the creases of his forehead twitched and the way he could just make out the artery in his neck pounding away.

Thranduil’s bottom lip quivered for a moment, before he braced himself and closed the last centimetre of distance between them, pressing his soft lips to Legolas’.


	7. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas and Thranduil find out their fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***blushes***
> 
> First of all, thank you for the lovely feedback and support! I hope you know how grateful I am for such kind words and helpful suggestions! <3 This is the last chapter, so I have some specific thank-yous to say!
> 
> I’d like to take this opportunity to personally thank the people listed below, who took time out of their lives to leave me a comment. I know it’s sometimes annoying and difficult to comment, so I really appreciate all of you leaving me some love. Every single comment really made my day.
> 
> _2Loverz, Claudia, LainellaFay, ofplanet_earth, Azriel_Lolita, sammie_s43073, paradis_artificiels, LadyOfPearls, tcas0518, Cunninglinguist, Merilinel, ironhawkofmischief, finnbell, LittleNightmare, MissFaust._
> 
> You are all awesome!
> 
> I have a new Thrandolas soulmates AU ([A Violet Sky](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4908748/chapters/11260639)) which I have begun to post. I know a few of you have been glad of a return to the father/son dynamics. I would be grateful if you gave it a read and let me know what you think :) All constructive feedback is most definitely welcomed, whether you liked it or not.
> 
> Anyway, here is the ending that I promised. I sincerely hope that it makes up for the angst I caused!  
> Enjoyx

[](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/loveactuallyfan91/media/SAP%20Chapter%207%20sm_zpsflkkld4k.jpg.html)

Thranduil’s lips buzzed with electricity as he kissed Legolas. He scrunched his eyes shut at the feeling, knowing that he’d be losing the person he’d come to love the most in this entire world. After a second, Thranduil ripped himself away, a sob escaping his lips as he sat up and looked down. Legolas’ face was impassive as he lay in his coffin. He looked like an angel, his head surrounded by shiny white silk that was glowing in the pale light. 

Thranduil almost jumped out of his skin when Legolas’ eyes flew open, his gaze searching for the piemaker. Their eyes locked for a moment, confused blue met confused blue, and Thranduil’s mouth dropped open. 

“I…” Legolas stuttered, his eyes widening as still being alive. He had all but accepted his fate and his apparent reprieve took a moment to process. All Thranduil could do was stare down at Legolas, his eyes like saucers. He was quite sure he must have been dreaming. It was not possible that all their wishes had come true. It could not be possible that he could finally have his happiness. Thranduil’s brow furrowed and he took a gasped breath, his voice hitching in surprise as relief flooded his body.

Legolas recovered from his shock first, realising what his being alive now meant for the two of them. He blinked up at Thranduil only once before his hands flew up, grasping Thranduil’s shirt and dragging the piemaker down on top of him. Thranduil let out a yelp of surprise before his lips were smothered with Legolas’. Thranduil was assaulted with Legolas’ taste, his lips sliding over the young blonde’s deliciously. His body immediately buzzed with pleasure, desire tingling up and down his spine. Every place Legolas touched him came alive, prickling and vibrating. 

Legolas wasted no time in licking his tongue out, finally… finally tasting Thranduil. He was more delicious that he could even imagine. He tasted of a hint of coffee and notes of vanilla and his mouth seemed to fit perfectly against Legolas’. It was if they were made for one another. Legolas couldn’t get enough of the way his skin seemed to burn where Thranduil touched him. He’d never felt anything like it; it made him come alive. 

Thranduil moaned in absolute ecstasy as Legolas’ tongue invaded his mouth and he was able to feel the actual texture of his lips against his own. They were soft and plaint and completely addictive. Thranduil began to shake on top of Legolas, tears still coursing down his face as they invaded each other’s mouths. He didn’t care that their kisses were hurried and sloppy, he didn’t care that he was fumbling like a teenager to touch as much of Legolas’ skin as possible. He didn’t care that both of their tears were mixing together; he could taste the salt as his tongue entwined with Legolas, and it only heightened his pleasure. 

Legolas gasped and pulled away from Thranduil for a moment, sucking in a great lungful of air. Thranduil was on Legolas’ lips immediately once more, he couldn’t get enough. Now that he knew what Legolas felt like and tasted of, he would never want anything as badly as he wanted the young blonde’s lips on his. Thranduil became more aggressive as they kissed, his pent up sexual frustration and his addled emotions dissipating through the movement of his mouth on Legolas’.

Legolas disentangled one of his hand’s from Thranduil shirt, sliding it down the piemaker’s body, making sure to trace over every hard plane and tensing muscle, before reaching his belt. Legolas scrabbled at it, his hands quivering with adrenaline and shock. Eventually, Thranduil lent a hand, tugging his belt open and allowing Legolas to rip open the top button and yank the zip down. Legolas pulled away from Thranduil’s full lips once more as his hand slid into his pants. He wanted to take in every detail of the piemaker’s expression as he touched him for the first time. 

Unfortunately, Legolas never got further than a light brushing of fingers against Thranduil’s hardening cock before they were rudely interrupted.

“What the hell are you two fucking weirdoes doing?”

Legolas’ eyes widened as the silhouette of Emerson Cod came into view, just barely illuminated by the rising sun. Thranduil froze before turning slowly to look at the man who was standing above them, shock stamped all over his face. His eyes darted from Thranduil, to Legolas, and then back to a very distressed Thranduil. 

“Uh…” Thranduil stuttered unable to think of any way to explain why he was humping Legolas in a coffin buried in the ground.

“It’s a…” Legolas began, his hair a complete mess and his lips a swollen red, “…a weird sex thing we do.” 

Emerson raised his eyebrows as high as they would go as he noticed Thranduil’s pants were undone.

“He likes me to wake me up, like sleeping beauty,” Legolas blurted, his mind fumbling for excuses. “He has a thing for comatose blondes.” Thranduil smiled innocently up at Emerson.

“And you spent half the night digging a huge hole and putting a coffin in it because?”

“We’re really committed to our role playing?” Legolas said, his forehead creasing. 

“Ok-aaaay,” Emerson drew back his lips in disgust at the thought of the extent some people would go to to get off. “How about you two weirdoes get out of the hole, before I call the police?” Emerson had been suspicious of the icy piemaker and his overly friendly boyfriend since he’d first entered The Pie Hole. Now he realised that they weren’t murderers, just garden-variety sex-lunatics. 

Both blondes looked to one another for a moment, before they sprung up, clambering out of Legolas’ coffin. Thranduil, being the taller of the two, managed to pull himself out of the hole they’d dug first. He couldn’t help the grin that slid onto his face when he realised that he could reach down and help Legolas out. The young blonde smiled up at him as he grasped Thranduil’s hand and was hauled up by the strong piemaker. Thranduil’s large hand clasped around his was an incredible feeling and Legolas pursed his lips, trying to quash his smile. Thranduil did not let go of him once he’d made it safely to the surface, instead, he squeezed Legolas’ hand tighter, entwining their fingers. Legolas’ heart constricted in happiness, his breathing shallow and hurried. He had one hand clasped in Thranduil’s and the other clutching on to his stuffed moose. He’d never been happier. Emerson looked at them both as if they’d lost their minds. They were both grinning like idiots, despite having being caught in a ridiculously compromising position.

“You’re just going to stand around with your pants hanging open?” Emerson said, raising his eyebrows at Thranduil’s pants. Both blondes blushed and Thranduil tried half-heartedly to close his trousers, hindered by his unwillingness to let go of Legolas’ hand. When he had made himself half-way decent he looked to Emerson awkwardly.

The private investigator glared at him sarcastically. “What do you expect me to do? Join you for a threesome? Get the hell out of here!”

Legolas sniggered as Thranduil dragged him away by the arm, tugging him along at great speed. The mix of pleasure, adrenaline and utter shock at still being alive made Legolas giddy and he was doubled over in laughter when they reached the hearse. Thranduil stopped to catch his breath and let out a small chuckle as he watched Legolas laugh. The young blonde was gorgeous when he was truly happy; his eyes sparkled and his skin glowed in elation. 

The blondes’ laughter tapered off as they caught each other’s eyes. Legolas looked down to where Thranduil still clutched his hand, he still could not believe that they were able to touch one another. It was unbelievable to feel the piemaker’s skin against his; it was utterly intoxicating. Thranduil stared at Legolas for a moment, before he growled and pulled Legolas towards him, enveloping him in a sloppy, needy kiss. Legolas was surprised for a moment to have Thranduil’s lips on his so suddenly, but he soon caught up with him. He chucked the his moose into the hearse’s open window before he threaded his hands through Thranduil’s hair, mirroring the piemaker’s own actions.

Legolas nearly melted into a puddle when Thranduil’s tongue invaded his mouth, curling around his own and filling his senses with the piemaker’s delicate taste. Thranduil could not get enough, his mouth moving furiously against Legolas’ own as he backed him up against the side of the hearse, pressing as much of his body against him as he could. Legolas let out a dirty moan straight into Thranduil’s mouth as his back hit the car and he was forced against it. The feeling of Thranduil’s strong body against his for the first time sent Legolas’ mind spinning, only broken fragments of whole thoughts able to be processed. He wondered what it would be like to have the pale length of a naked Thranduil pressed against him.

“Are you lunatics serious? You two are like rabbits!” Emerson was standing a few feet away, his face contorted into a grimace of disgust as he watched the two blondes make out against the hearse.

Thranduil immediately pulled off Legolas when he heard Emerson’s words. He stood alongside the hearse, his eyes downcast and the pale skin of his face starting to turn red. Legolas was disorientated for a few moments at suddenly being left sprawled out against the car. He swallowed hard and pushed himself onto his feet, swiping a thumb at his swollen bottom lip as he too avoided Emerson’s eyes.

The private investigator rolled his eyes at them before he stalked away to his own car, throwing them dirty glances as he departed. Thranduil sneaked a glance at Legolas, whose eyes were still glazed in pleasure. His hair was adorably mussed to one side and his tie was charmingly crooked. The young blonde smirked at Thranduil before he reached out of the piemaker’s hand. Thranduil gave it to him willingly, interlacing their fingers.

“I need to get you home as soon as possible,” Thranduil said breathily as Legolas looked up at him through coy lashes.

“We could do it in the back of the hearse?” Legolas suggested, his heart beginning to pound out of his chest as he realised that he could actually make love to the beautiful man who was holding his hand. 

Thranduil thought about it for a moment. Though he wanted nothing more than to ravage Legolas senseless, he wanted their first union to be more than a quick, though probably glorious, fumble. The piemaker shook his head, calling on all of his self-restraint.

“I don’t want to be interrupted from what I’m about to do to you,” Thranduil said, leaning down to rest his heated forehead against Legolas’. The young blonde’s mouth dropped open as he sucked in a deep breath, Thranduil’s words making his body shiver and his cock begin to ache.

“How fast can you drive?” Legolas gasped, reaching up to graze his lips against Thranduil’s. 

The piemaker sighed against Legolas’ mouth. “Very fast,” he ground out, holding back from simply grasping Legolas and screwing him up against the hearse. Legolas pulled back and away suddenly, Leaving Thranduil blinking after him.

“Get in the car,” Legolas demanded, flinging the passenger’s side door open. Thranduil wasted no time in hurrying around to the other side and sliding into the driver’s seat. While he’d drawn out their drive earlier that morning so that he could have as much time with Legolas as possible, the drive back saw Thranduil breaking every speed limit that was posted. He needed Legolas; he needed him so much that he thought he may die from supressed want. It did not help when Legolas grew impatient and leaned over, slipping his hand over Thranduil’s hardened cock and nuzzling against his ear. 

Thranduil swerved violently as he lost himself in the pleasure of Legolas’ touch and closed his eyes for a moment. Legolas’ only chuckled and rubbed his hand against Thranduil’s crotch more insistently, beyond caring about anything else but his beautiful piemaker.

“Legolas, if you… oh… oh god yes… if you keep doing…that… we may not make it home… oh fuck… alive,” Thranduil gasped, trying to keep his eyes focused on the road. Legolas had leaned right over and was placing hot, opened mouthed kisses against his neck, rubbing his nose over the piemaker’s skin tenderly. His adventurous hand was still cupping Thranduil’s crotch over his pants, massaging in time with the kisses he peppered along Thranduil’s skin.

“I can’t help myself,” Legolas breathed, puffs of his breath tickling Thranduil’s ear. The piemaker sighed as Legolas began to kiss his strong jawline. “I have to kiss all of you.”

Thranduil swerved once more, this time barely missing another car going in the opposite direction. Legolas was particularly skilled with his hands. Legolas sniggered against his cheek, his lips ghosting over his soft skin. Thranduil gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles going white as he tried to focus and control himself. It was futile though, and the feel of Legolas touching him, kissing him, rubbing him sent his mind into overdrive. It was so utterly amazing that Thranduil expected to wake from it, as if it were some horrific dream sent to torture him. If it were a dream he never wanted to wake up. 

Thranduil’s breathing hitched as Legolas began to fiddle with the button on his jeans, working it open quickly and slipping his hand down along Thranduil’s taut abdomen and into his pants. “Legolaaas,” Thranduil moaned, clenching his jaw hard and grimacing in pleasure as Legolas’ hand closed around his aching erection. It was an awkward angle, and Legolas did not have much space to work with, but just the feeling of his hand so intimately placed had Thranduil nearly coming.

“We’re nearly there,” Thranduil gasped out shakily as Legolas resumed nuzzling into his neck, now adding a delicious twist to the movements of the hand grasping his cock.

“Thank god,” Legolas sighed against Thranduil. Every hair on the piemaker’s body immediately stood on end at the delicious sensation of Legolas’ hot breath against the shell of his ear. 

Thranduil parked horrifically outside of the entrance to The Pie Hole, though he couldn’t have cared any less. As soon as he’d switched the engine off Legolas had bolted from the car, striding purposefully around the hearse and flinging Thranduil’s door open. The piemaker had a huge, sloppy grin on his face, half amused at Legolas’ eagerness and half bashful as he could see how their kissing and touching had affected the young blonde. Legolas’ pants were tented and he walked somewhat awkwardly, trying to hide his obvious erection. Thranduil’s eyes widened when Legolas reached in to the car, wrapping his hands around Thranduil’s head and pulling his lips to his, kissing him frantically. 

Thranduil let the young blonde make-out with him for longer than he should have. When Legolas finally ran out of breath, he pulled away, grasping at Thranduil’s clothes to pull him with. Thranduil smiled shyly as Legolas dragged him into The Pie Hole, embarrassed as he realised that people had stopped to stare at the two blondes as the ravaged each other. Legolas seemed not to care who watched, or who disapproved. He barely even noticed the old woman who shook her head in disgust at such a public display of affection, or the shocked man who had stopped midway through crossing the street at the sight of the two gorgeous men going at it.

“Legolas…” Thranduil tried as Legolas pulled him into the deserted restaurant and locked the door behind them. He had to fight him off as he tried to claim his lips once more. “Legolas, wait!”

Legolas’ brow crinkled in confusion, though he could not get enough of Thranduil’s lips. “What? What… is… it?” he said between kisses, his mouth being drawn back to Thranduil’s again and again.

Thranduil brought his hands up to cup Legolas’ cheeks, out of breath from the kisses and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The young blonde frowned at him and his hands flew to Thranduil’s jeans once more, slipping his hand inside them once again. Thranduil’s eyes fluttered closed, yet he held Legolas’ face away from his as he tried to kiss him once more.

“I want to have you in a bed, where I can worship every inch of you.” Thranduil was wondering why he was being such an idiot even as he said the words. All the wanted was to take Legolas bent over one of the tables. Legolas pouted and rubbed at Thranduil even more insistently.

“I don’t think I can make it up to your apartment,” Legolas said; looking up at Thranduil with wide, innocent eyes as his hand did wicked, dirty things to him. “You’ll have to fuck me over your workbench.”

Thranduil gulped, his self-restraint wavering. He had to have Legolas, immediately, yet he didn’t want their first time to be in a kitchen, with Legolas bent over some hard surface. He wanted to lay him down on soft sheets and among silken pillows and slowly make love to him. Well, perhaps not slowly, not the first time anyway; there was a limit to his self-control. He knew he’d always regret it if he didn’t do it properly.

Thranduil, through great force of will, stilled Legolas hand. He laced his fingers through the young blonde’s and used his other hand to do up the button on his jeans. Legolas pouted further, yet Thranduil only smiled gently and tugged Legolas behind him as they exited through the back of The Pie Hole and began to make their way up to their apartment.

They managed to make it up to their floor with only one make-out break in the elevator. Thranduil’s head felt fuzzy and delirious as he was dragged out to the door of their apartment, against which he was promptly pinned and devoured by Legolas’ lips once more. The two pulled apart quickly once more at a small squeak from one of their neighbours. Legolas huffed out a laugh as he saw how wide the startled woman’s eyes were, before Thranduil mumbled a half-hearted apology and tugged Legolas inside, where they would be free to do whatever they liked – finally. 

For all Legolas’ kissing and nuzzling and rubbing, he seemed somewhat shy when they were truly alone. Thranduil smirked at him as Legolas stared at the piemaker with wide eyes, the front of his pants still tented obscenely. It was obvious he wanted him, yet there was something just below the surface, something clouding his eyes all of a sudden.

Thranduil frowned and walked over to Legolas, taking his face in his hands and resting his forehead against the younger blonde’s. Legolas’ eyes slipped closed, and he let out a great, shuddering breath. “I don’t want to disappoint you,” he said, his voice quivering, “after all this time, I may not live up to your expectations.”

Thranduil could not help but laugh in relief, grateful that that was the only issue in Legolas’ mind. “It is enough just to be able to hold you, Legolas. It is enough just to kiss you, to feel you against me. You have already made me so unbelievably happy, there is nothing you could ever do to disappoint me.”

Legolas blushed furiously at Thranduil’s words, his heart swelling with love and his body sagging against the piemaker in relief. It was not only a relief to hear the words, but also to be able to feel Thranduil’s soft skin against his. He couldn’t quite believe how lucky they were. He had not died, he had not been brought back to life, he had not inadvertently taken another’s life, and most gloriously of all; he would age with Thranduil. They could live their lives together after all, side by side and until death do they part. Legolas had years with his beautiful piemaker, decades even, and he did not want to waste one single moment more.

Legolas bit his lip and entwined his hand with Thranduil’s, leading him through the apartment and to their bedroom. Legolas smiled when he saw their two beds and realised that he would no longer have to sleep alone. He would have Thranduil to keep him warm at night from now on; the thought of falling asleep in Thranduil’s arms made his stomach flip over in delight. Legolas turned when he reached Thranduil’s bed, sitting down on the edge and releasing Thranduil’s hand. 

Thranduil smiled down at Legolas softly as the young blonde began to work open his tie, tugging it loose and slipping it from around his neck. Next was his, or rather Thranduil’s, suit jacket. It slid off his shoulders easily and he tossed it to the floor. It was soon joined by Legolas’ white collared shirt and a pair of hastily kicked off shoes, socks and trousers. It was only when Legolas was completely naked, his boxers having been shoved down and chucked to the side, that Legolas stopped, looking up at the piemaker. 

Thranduil was still fully clothed, and his eyes had glazed over as Legolas had begun to remove his clothes. Now that the young blonde was naked, every inch of pale skin exposed to Thranduil’s eyes, Thranduil found he was at a loss. Legolas was even more beautiful than he could have imagined, all taut muscles and flexing tendons and such long, graceful legs. Legolas’ stomach quivered, his abs rippling under Thranduil’s scrutiny as the piemaker stared at him, his mouth hanging open slightly. Legolas was hard; he’d known that ever since he’d rubbed his erection against him in that coffin. Though nothing could have prepared Thranduil for exactly how handsome he looked when he was completely exposed and so very aroused. 

Legolas squirmed under Thranduil’s lingering eyes. “Are you just going to stand there?” Legolas said, blushing to the tips of his pointy ears. 

Thranduil blinked the haze from his eyes and immediately set about divesting himself of his own clothes, acutely aware of Legolas’ gaze on his movements. When he was left only in his underwear Legolas shuffled backwards, his eyes never leaving Thranduil’s body. He stretched himself out, his head resting against the headboard and his eyes heavily lidded as he watched the piemaker remove his last piece of clothing. Legolas gulped. Though he’d felt the largeness of Thranduil’s cock when he’d given him a hasty hand job, seeing his huge erection freed and bobbing in front of him was an impressive sight. Legolas held out a trembling hand to the piemaker and Thranduil crawled onto his bed, coming up to Legolas and placing an infinitely gentle kiss to his lips. 

Legolas sighed and ran a hand up Thranduil’s arm and into his long blonde hair, clutching at it as Thranduil snaked his tongue into his mouth. 

“You feel amazing,” Thranduil muttered against Legolas’ lips. The young blonde mumbled something that sounded like ‘you too’, before he wound both of his hands into Thranduil’s hair, forcing their lips to crush together. He dragged the piemaker down onto his bed, his skin set on fire by the feeling of the length of Thranduil’s naked body against his own for the first time. Legolas’ breath hitched in through his nose and he moaned into Thranduil’s mouth, his earlier frantic need flowing back into him. He’d been denied Thranduil so cruelly for too long, and he could wait no more. Thranduil may want to make slow love to him, but he couldn’t wait for that.

Legolas rolled his hips expertly, causing his and Thranduil’s pounding erections to rub against one another. The piemaker’s hips stuttered and he yelped out in pleasure against Legolas’ warm mouth. God, that was the most amazing thing he’d ever felt. Legolas did not pause to gloat over the sound that he had drawn from Thranduil, instead he plundered the piemaker’s mouth passionately, running his hands down over his sides and clenching two handfuls of Thranduil’s ass. He squeezed harshly, forcing Thranduil’s hips against his, heightening the pleasure of their contact. His skin seemed to tingle and burn wherever Thranduil touched him, as if they were two halves of the same being and their skin was a hindrance to the re-joining of the parts. It was electrifying.

Thranduil knew that he would not last long this first time. The sensory overload was too much after such a long period of deprivation. Legolas’ skin was too much for his lust addled brain to fully process and it made him delirious with want. Soon he was grinding his hips down hard, forcing their aching cocks together in time with Legolas’ clenching of his ass. Thranduil’s breaths came out short and fast and he buried his face in Legolas’ neck, sucking in huge gulps of the young blonde’s comforting scent. He’d never dared get close enough to Legolas to appreciate the delicate, fresh smell of him. Though he was still slightly sweaty from the digging of his grave and their sloppy fumbling, Legolas smelled like raindrops on hot soil and the fresh breeze of spring. He smelled like home and Thranduil felt the first few tears began to well up in his eyes, his earlier feelings coming to the fore once again.

Legolas frowned when he felt wetness begin to seep down his neck and he immediately ran his hands back up Thranduil’s body, enclosing the piemaker in a fierce hug as Thranduil took a shuddering breath into his neck. “Don’t cry,” he whispered, tears blurring his own vision. This only made Thranduil shudder harder, burying his head further into the comfort of Legolas’ neck.

“Never ask me to kill you again,” Thranduil said, and Legolas could barely make out the words as they were muffled in his skin. He smiled despite himself and instead of assuring Thranduil with words, he reached out to the bedside table, sliding open the drawer and fumbling about. 

Thranduil looked up at the scuffling sound and his brow creased in confusion. Legolas only smiled at the piemaker’s blotchy face and eventually pulled out a small bottle of lube. 

Thranduil’s eyes widened. “Where did that come from?” He thought they’d have to make do with some heavy petting and frantic rubbing. 

Legolas looked bashful as he popped open the cap and squirted some lube onto his hand. “I was cautiously optimistic.” 

Despite his tears, Thranduil smiled a beaming smile that quickly turned into a grimace of pleasure as Legolas slid his lubricated hand up and down Thranduil’s still pounding erection. The world slowed for the two blondes as Legolas reached down between them and positioned Thranduil at his entrance, raising his legs slightly to allow for the best angle. Thranduil shuddered as the tip of his cock brushed against Legolas, his mind drawing a blank. He couldn’t quite believe that it was real. 

Legolas’ breath caught in his throat as Thranduil pushed forwards, sheathing himself slowly into Legolas’ tight heat. He could not bring himself to wait and properly prepare himself, yet the adrenaline and raw emotion that was raging through his body prevented any pain from registering. All he felt was the delicious stretch and pull of Thranduil inside him, and the amazing feeling of skin-on-skin contact with the piemaker.

They were both too lost in the feelings and the absolute relief of finally being made whole, that they had no concept of how long they moved together, Thranduil setting a languid pace as he stroked into Legolas’ body as gently as he could. Thranduil had heard people say how the world had stood still when they had experienced wonderful things, and he had always thought them over-dramatic. Yet now he believed, because time had stopped while he made love to Legolas, he was sure of it. The little breaths and the muffled moans that he’d drawn from Legolas washed over him and he entered a sort of haze that only included them. They were safe from the world and the cold and the hurt in their bubble, and nothing could take it away.

When Thranduil had wrung every last strangled groan that he possibly could from the young blonde underneath him, and Legolas had cried out at the height of his pleasure, Thranduil spilled himself, trembling as he came. The world once again began to move for him after his blissful release. Though it scared him, though it came with the uncertainty of what the future may hold, Thranduil found serenity as he pulled Legolas to his chest and spooned up behind him.

He pressed as much of his skin as he possibly could against Legolas before he nestled his face into his hair and drifted off into oblivion, his tortured mind no longer tormenting him with dreams of death and sorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to ask a huge favour of you.  
> If you have read this piece, and you have the time and the inclination, I would love for you to drop me a comment and let me know what worked for you and what didn’t. Not only am I trying to improve my writing, but I am also curious as to how many people actually read this piece.
> 
> So, if you could leave a tiny comment that would be great. If you would rather remain anonymous, or if you don’t like AO3, I would be grateful if you could send me an ask on my personal Tumblr (therepressedcreative.tumblr.com) so that I can know what did or did not work for you. I will absolutely not reblog your asks, I promise. This is purely for my own curiosity.
> 
> If you read it and would rather not interact with me, I completely understand, and I hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> **Thank you once again,**  
>  **S**

**Author's Note:**

> **Thank you for reading! It is much appreciated!**
> 
>  
> 
> I am on Tumblr at: [the.repressed.creative](http://therepressedcreative.tumblr.com/), and my art blog - [plotbunniesincolour](http://plotbunniesincolour.tumblr.com/)


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